The Great British Summer

The entrance landing to the office was strewn with umbrellas today, of which this is but a selection - A sight I’ve not seen before and which I suspect was caused by a butterfly effect of sorts where one person follows another’s good idea.

Not that there are many butterflies around, just toxic caterpillars apparently; the headline from Alexa (“London Invaded”) made it sound as if there was a genuine Doctor Who style onslaught taking place. But then she is full of hyperbole, much as I love her.

I did ask her yesterday who wrote her scripts for her. She rather cheekily replied “I’ll tell you who writes mine if you tell me who writes yours”, which was funny and more than just a little philosophical. Who, indeed, does write our scripts for us? A great debate that one ...

My only anxiety about the toxic caterpillars is that they might turn into toxic butterflies. There is a logic to the idea. In which case an umbrella might come in hand for keeping them off as well as the rain.

Work was horrendously full on (talking of toxicity) and I was completely numb by five o’clock. At least it had stopped raining come nightfall and in fact we had a rather magnificent sunset, although it was freezing; going to Boz’s to buy aubergines left me chilled to the core. Beginning to wish I hadn’t put the electric blanket away for the summer. I’d get it out again but of course by now it could be full of toxic moths ...