We like to walk across the meadow and across the road and down this avenue of London Plane trees, and then along the river and around to the punts and the bridge over the River Cam.
There are no skyscrapers on the horizon; there are lovely old buildings in the town; and in going to this spot we do what humanity does for the most part. That is to find a place that is pleasant and to cast the unpleasant bits out of one’s mind.
Something happened this summer though, with the hot days going on and on and the grass turning a pale yellow.
The branches on some trees, even mature trees, are drooping and are plainly in need of rain.
So the sun cannot be enjoyed fully. It carries a reminder or a message that things are off kilter.
You eye everything, feeling that the very ground on which you walk is betrayed.