flickr.com/photos/7232802@N06/485305230
Sultry heat we haven’t seen the like of for three years has already resulted in the retrieval of the fan from the back of the cupboard. The lawn’s beginning to throw up little puffs of dust and dry grass underfoot, with a hosepipe ban surely only days away. Play at Wimbledon has continued uninterrupted, with only one brief shower at Glastonbury so far. Strawberry stalls occupy every lay-by, the smell of burning charcoal drifts from surrounding gardens and legs of all shape, size, gender and age make an appearance beneath shorts of many colours. Young men heavy with alcohol tragically sink off midnight beaches, England cricketers prepare to ensure The Ashes return to Australia and the first ‘book now for Christmas’ reminders appear. Newspapers print pictures of packed shorelines under headlines that include ‘phew’, ‘scorcher’ and ‘hotter than Corfu’. The Great British Summer has arrived.
