Issue 61 - Summer Lightning
The summer sun had beaten the land into submission. The fields lay yellow and parched, the wildflowers were wilted, their colours washed out. The rivers trickled through the valleys, clear, weedy and low. The ponds were shrunken, still
and green. The summer was turning into the best for years. The tabloids whinged about hosepipe bans and leaky pipes, the broadsheets worried about global warming. The pensioners moaned and the shops were stripped of electric fans and ice-lollies. My first daughter was born in July and by the end of the month sleep deprivation was kicking in, aided and abetted by the unrelenting humidity.
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