Whoop-de-do! Here goes 10 more years of wet summers

Not that I’m complaining too much. I have witnessed hot summers. I lived through the searing, dry summer of ‘76 when, as a student based in Oxford for a few weeks, I was too poor to keep cool and spent most days in Marks & Spencer which was about the only air-conditioned store in the city.

I was involved in an open air production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, playing the tiny part of Hippolyta (I don’t recall who played the rest of her, guffaw).

I wore a Grecian-style gown which would brook no bra and so I went without, spending hours trying to work out how to walk briskly across the stage area without incurring a nasty bounce injury. I tried long even paces and short, controlled steps. Nothing was 100 per cent effective. The audiences, mostly tourists, were spellbound... by the play, I trust.

It is now suggested we may have another decade of wetness yet to endure before we get another warm dry summer so you’ll doubtless be relieved to hear I shall definitely be keeping my bra on until then.


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