Welcome to your weekly dose of me being shocked at the passage of time, and complaining about the weather.

It is the end of August already. How?

The weather has not improved and now I think we can safely say that summer has just skipped us entirely this year.

To quote Monty Python (because why not?):

A year passed: winter changed into spring, spring changed into summer, summer changed back into winter, and winter gave spring and summer a miss and went straight on into autumn…

At least no branches have fallen on anyone. Yet.

Letters to Enid part 37

and

August round up

“I’m jolly glad,” said Mike. “Every time I get back to that hollow tree I expect to find Aunt or Uncle hidden inside it, ready to pop out at us!”

Every time I read this my brain supplies the image of a cardboard-cut-out of Aunt Harriet and Uncle Henry (looking a bit like the pair from the painting American Gothic) popping out of the hollow tree. It’s so vivid I’m often half-surprised that it is not, in fact, an illustration from the book.