Every now and again in cold, wet, dark England the summer comes. It has not been here since 2006. But now it has come back with a vengeance! It is nearly midnight and it is 27 degrees. We have had the highest temperatures today since that last summer. The humidity to is up there with warmer climes and we are melting in the heat. It is fantastic!
We English are good at beating ourselves up. Yet what a summer. Murray (admittedly not English) wins at Wimbledon in 50 degrees. We thumped Australia in the Ashes at Lord's. And a royal baby is born. Sometimes we English do things well.
I spent the weekend in an English country village near Cambridge. I roasted an English local chicken stuffed with garden grown sage, rosemary, and thyme with English potatoes. Result, stunning. The finest I have ever cooked. Oh how I yearn for good produce at the butcher I can't access and the fruit and veg shop that long since ceased to exist where I live. A couple of pints of local ale in a Cambridge pub I'd not been to for 20 years sealed it. Sometimes we are good.
On a bakingly hot day I listened the Edward Elgar on the way to and from work today. Has there ever been a finer recording than Du Pre's of Elgar's Cello Concerto? I suspect not. I know she is not English but it is an English piece.
And what of me? I too am feeling glorious. Mood is up but not manic. My life after 2 years of unhappiness and uncertainty now has a direction. Where it will lead me I don't know. But I'm out of the darkness and long may it continue-no extra risperidone needed now.
Here is to tomorrow, tropical storms and 28 degrees; now that has been a long time coming!
I Heard a Voice.
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