Yup - the sunny spell continues. The grass verges along our road are bleached yellow, we are carting buckets and watering cans of water up and down the garden - but I'm not complaining. Especially now that he has sorted out the air conditioning in my car ("if you just open these vents here....")
Yesterday, no, the day before, I followed a laden skip lorry up the bypass - at a very discrete distance. Some evil gremlin hiding under the tarpaulin was chucking out four-foot lengths of aluminium guttering at random intervals. I was extremely grateful when I could turn left and he carried straight on.
The children are coping well with the sticky heat most of the time - the secret is to take everything slowly and not expect any quick intelligence - any intelligence, come to think of it - from them. It's like Indonesia, when you walk around, slopping the soles of your feet and fanning yourself sighing "Ah-doo-lah, pannas"...
I'm on a watercolour-dabbling kick at the moment, in a very small way, because I can only find my very small sketch book. Somewhere there is a larger one, but it is hiding from me. I'd like this picture better if it didn't look so much like a face.
These are meant to be honeysuckle flowers - and so they are, if I label them "Honeysuckle". Otherwise they can be whatever you like.
Himself is photographing again; here's Wakehurst Place looking quintessentially English