August 9th 2012

After a summer of low-pressure madness where we all gradually morphed into low-pressure junkies today has turned surreal and other-worldly. High pressure has enveloped us like a shroud and the Olympic sailing in Weymouth has been abandoned because there is no wind. My garden is now in total silence. Completely still. The feathery tops of the nettles that I have been meaning to weed resemble insects trapped in amber. The birds have stopped singing. Like airline passengers uncomfortable with cabin pressure. And a Chinook going into the army base was deafeningly loud even though a speck in the distance. More surreal was the far away sound of evening church-bells which you never hear in my tiny aetheist Leechpudlian backwater. The norm round here is estuary wind. Blustery persistent and sometimes fierce. Newcomers up the road have put up a house name........"Dambreezy". Dave told me that Jocelynne likes purple flowers so I include a photo here of my gladioli even though it might be a touch closer to violet.