The ice cube trays in my freezer have assumed central importance in our household.
The shady corner of the garden is our favourite part.
Every window is open, every fan deployed.
It’s the kind of weather when a hold-up makes motorists boil over, seething in their metal cans like stew in a pressure cooker.
It’s the kind of weather where you give short-tempered dogs a wide berth.
It’s the kind of weather where ex-year-thirteens fret silently behind their sunglasses about the A2 results that they may or may not have obtained.
Be kind to them.
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