It has been the hottest day on record, previously registered in 1976. I was 14 that year. I don’t remember that day – in 1976 it was hot – all summer long. By September of that year, the radio stations were playing every rain related song to encourage the weather to break. Not like this micro heatwave that we are sweating out at the moment which is due to break tomorrow, just one day after the Summer Solstice.
In contrast it was a few years ago now – Wilbur, my adorable black Labrador, his stinky dog breath, Dave and I camped in the back of my Volvo. The car park was just a short walk from Stone Henge. We were there to tick off another item from our ever increasing bucket list!
We’d trudged to the stones, wandered the troupes, engaged with the music, gapped at the wicker men. Then we popped back to the car for a picnic and a nap before trudging back to the stones, wandering the troupes, engaging with the music and gapping at the wicker men. It was quite a long night and not at all that warm.
The early sun rise was masked by a murky mist or perhaps it was the hot breath of the campers awaiting the early wake of the new day.
A cheer whimpered as the sun peeked through the thick, grey, woolly clouds around 4.45 am and promptly disappeared again. And then that was it – the tipping point of Summer, all over in an instance, for that particular year.