Old age has decided me on summer as my favourite. And the hotter, the better. There is nothing like a summer heat wave to make you appreciate air conditioning for the boon it is. I love it when the lawn is reduced to a few desperate strands of yellow grass struggling to cover the hard baked earth and the sky is bleached near white in the sun's silent ferocity. Oh, I can still pine for the damp mists of England but, when summer brings the world to a breathless halt, my age-induced frailty remembers Africa with fondness. And that was when there was no such thing as a/c.
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