Summer. What a joy it is to be alive when a real summer is happening.
Up at "The Hammer Pincers" car park, Mike and I waited for his wife Jill to arrive in their silver Honda car. It was almost ten thirty but the western skies were still so filled with summer light that nighttime was again struggling to take command.
I was wearing my navy blue "Yorkshire Pudding" T-shirt, faded blue shorts and walking sandals. The temperature was so balmy that I did not feel any kind of chill.
Once again, we had won the pub quiz with knowledge and cunning. Though Mike and I had no idea, our friend Mick - back from a week in Skegness - knew that Luke Skywalker piloted an X-wing fighter plane in "Starwars" (1977).
Earlier, I made Sunday dinner for the family. It was leg of pork this time with new potatoes, roasted carrots, purple-sprouting broccoli, mixed vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and gravy. This was followed by a superb raspberry cheesecake that Shirley had made from scratch. The slices stood four inches tall and were most delicious and summery.
Afterwards, I lay on the lawn looking up at winging swallows, the cumulus clouds and the blue sky beyond. Little Margot and Phoebe came to join me for a while, riding upon the chest of The Grandpa Beast at the very end of June and laughing like monkeys under that summer sky.
Summer - easing, placating, kindly smoothing out as though there might be no tomorrow. And it feels very good to be alive, hardly bothering to count the days until the first frost of autumn along our unstoppable journey to wintertime.
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