Tuesday, 19:17, London
It’s mid-August. Two months since the solstice. Coming down the hill of summer. The air’s carried a freshness with it since the weekend reminding me there are other seasons to come. I could feel it in other people too – or at least, I felt my feeling reflected in others – able to get on with their days without the bother and allure of high heat.
How unusually fortuitous (every time I hear that it reminds me of the person I first heard say it), the slim range of temperatures we’re at ease in. For a couple of months, maybe a few if we’re lucky, we have it good; roaming in the reliability of warmth and sun.
I speak native of a temperate climate. Is that goldilocks range of temperatures different for people from the tropics and arctic?
It’ll come. London will be Barcelona, and Madrid, Dubai. That’s what I’ve read. Encroaching climates. A whole cascade of atmospheres to arrive.
For now, mid-August, we’ve started teetering. A short reprieve of coolness before heat returns, all to plan, but at least, a reminder of change.