Short and precious – it seems to have already passed. There were two weeks of fairly consistent 30 C, dry weather. Or could it have been three?
Already, on August 27, the day temperature was 14 C. OK. OK. It was not that all day long, but long enough.
People were wearing jackets and light sweaters, as I made my less-than-comfortable way back, with the light clothes I wore to yoga class.
It will be up and down for a while, said Marc-Antoine, who should know.
Well, I sincerely hope so. But I don’t believe it. The sky is blue, the air sweet, the light pretty, but a deep sense of regret clouds my senses as I think: OVER ALREADY.
I threw my little hissy fit about it not being fair, which Marc-Antoine met with amused tolerance. He seems to prefer sitting on the terrace in this cooler weather. Not quite Eskimo blood, but French ancestry trumps Indian. Sigh.
Anyone for seconds?