Before the heat comes!

Before the heat comes,the house openings a jar,welcoming the breeze that teases the skin before the African sun beats us into submission.Houses in the Northern hemisphere keep heat in,keep sound out,but stifle the fresh air .When my old gran would get up ,come rain ,shine or force 9,the windows would be opened to her insistence.That little Cornish cottage at Ruddlemoor with never a nod to mod cons was her fridge home.With a slate shelved pantry ,she kept with butter ,cheese and milk chilled in the summer to a very efficient degree.Never a fan for gran,never a fan of luxury.

So,before the heat comes,we bust ourselves with chores ,with mopping floors,with bathroom and kitchen lounge and bedroom and I think of my gran with her miners cottage,her outside toilet,her coronation milk in her tea.Her pain of loss,war dead,enough said,but I think of her smile,her Celtic energy,her religious fervour,her contentment.So,before it gets too hot,I tap into a bit of that,just like at the back of her cottage her lake ,polluted with mica,but somehow beautiful in context.

Before it gets too hot ,I think of those struggling to work,to just get by ,to act out their part in the drama of life.Their strife’s,their concerns,their families,their pains without gains.So before the heat stifles conscious thought ,I chose to indulge my blog and ,in retrospect,the heat will come and go,and I will be on a go slow,but never not going,never not flowing.Like the Lake where gran lived,where she thought of my grandad,where she mourned her sons,it was her imagination,her Words of tacit resistance that I remember ,along with her tea with Carnation milk.

It’s hot now .Made dogs and Englishmen would think twice in this midday sun.

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