I stole a little time yesterday, after working, to sit out in it. The wind was strong so I slipped my body in between our car and our neighbours’ one. It still found me though and I froze a little. Between gusts I felt the warmth and was glad of it.
He is sad, and sometimes a little cross about the weather we are having this June. June, he says, it’s June and look at it! Nothing above 18 degrees and he is grieving. I am a little more sanguine. I have work to do and seeing the sun from my window fills me with too much longing. It will come, I tell him, perhaps in July.
