It sounds like a dramatic post title, “the longest day”. It doesn’t, though, refer to some forthcoming ordeal, an adventure where the aircraft crashes in the jungle and it takes forever to be rescued. Tomorrow is actually the longest day. June 21st, the summer equinox.
It is somewhat disconcerting because it implies the summer, and I mean the period of semi nice weather rather than the specific season, the cricket season if you like, is half way through already. Aargh.
Wimbledon is about to start. Good. I can identify with tennis nowadays since I took John to see it last year. We saw Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal and Venus Williams in separate matches on Centre Court. A great introduction proper to the sport.
We also spent lots of money. An “official” towel was £24. We bought two. That’s roughly 20 pints of bitter’s worth for anyone reading this in the future and trying to calibrate that cost. Still we had a great day out.
The first test against the Aussies is also about to start. Another pointer to this being the height of summer. I have mixed feelings about this one. The last time they were over was probably the greatest test series ever. It is unlikely to be repeated this time but we shall see.
Anyway the effect of course of it being the longest day is that it is light both very early and very late and it is at that first part of the day that I now sit in the conservatory tapping out this conversation.
It is not a particularly nice day out. Typical British summer weather really. There is breeze and cloud although this will not stop me from putting on my shorts today. There is also a sparrow pecking away at the patio outside. I can’t say I regularly see a sparrow in the back garden but he is very welcome.
Since I sat down to write this morning the noise of the birds has grown louder. I’m surprised that I was up before them. I suppose we all need our fair quota of sleep.
Looking out into the garden I can see the detritus of childhood. A broken football goal, a football, a giant tennis ball, some football cones, a cricket catching practice net, a trampoline and a slide that must now be 12 or 13 years old and has very well withstood the rigours of its dozen British winters. It doesn’t get used much anymore.
The door of the shed that keeps all the outdoor toys stands half open. It has to go someday soon. The toys are no longer used, just like the playhouse, a treasure in its time but now occupied solely with the storage of garden furniture.
The wheelbarrow on the patio is filled with compost and has been planted with long stemmed white flowers. I know not their make. The chimeniere hides behind them.
Enough of these musings. Tomorrow is the longest day which means that today is nearly as long so I must get on with it and go and make Anne a cup of tea. It is still early but there is a lot of day to cram things into so lets go!