The portents could be better. In the three weeks of the month only about three days have been sunny and dry. The blaze of 'Flaming June' has been drenched by persistent drizzle, leaving only damp and malodorous embers. And this in the month which used to be my absolute favourite of the entire year. But 2016 is subtly diffferent.
Weather permitting I may take a glass of wine at an outside table on this longest evening of the year. But I shall not wait for the dark. It will come whether I want it or not.
It is not the darkness that the science of astronomy mandates that I fear, but rather the nocturnal gloom which could result from Thursday's referendum vote if the absurdity of the Brexiteers should carry the day.
“Are you sure that we are awake?
It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream.”
William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, four-hundred years ago.