In sun-worshipping days, we might have felt a tad unloved of late.  But this week, we have SUN! What the ballyhoo are you doing sitting inside (presumably), typing, then, Imp?

A fine question indeed. I am working. But not for long, hence the brevity of style, the economy of manner, the inherent apology about the questionable quality of this posting.

I seized the sunnynessing earlier today and went for a run. I altered my usual route and galloped, knee-jerkingly idiotically, down some very steep fields. They were so green! Two magpies winked at me (better than the 8 in their circular parliament I’d seen ten days earlier. Very creepy). And on the way down the hill, a lady held the gate open for me.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” I beamed. I always try to be a little ray of sunshine myself. But you knew that.

“Oh, yes,” she said, grey bun on head, like the kind of lady who might be a fairy godmother in disguise.

“Aren’t we lucky?” I shone, pushing my luck while emanating (an irritating) joie de vivre and (also irritating) sweat.

“That’s it, ” she said. “That’s our summer.”

There’s nothing like a fairy godmother in a cheery mood, is there? (And that was nothing like it.)