Now, this month is a little more interesting, partly because the first half of it describes a week in the temperate climate of the UK, and the weather there is anything but monotonous. Temperate, as in the Shakespeare sonnet about comparing his love to a summer’s day. It kept his interest, I guess.

Despite being assured by Eliza that it can be “really warm” in Edinburgh in the summer, it wasn’t for most of the time we were there (although there is one row of pink) and I wished I’d taken a coat. This has always been my reason for not going Norf: I resent having to wear even a little cardi on holiday, but what I’ve seen of Scotland is so beautiful that I want to explore more, swathed in cashmere and tweed, of course.

To be fair, Beckenham was hardly any warmer for any of this time, though it warmed up noticeably at the end of my stay and I think I probably topped up my permatan as I sat in the garden sipping elderflower cordial with Valerie on that last afternoon but one. Thank goodness for the awning. You can see that the temperature dipped quite low on the night between those very warm days, a sign that autumn had arrived.

The three white stripes for the flight are a little incongruous here, but useful because neither Finnair nor BA gave information on the actual outside temperature, which tends towards around -55C, and then it was back again to hot and not quite so hot in HK, not that I had any idea of how it felt because I was in home quarantine until yesterday.

We’ve had a bit of rain here in the last couple of days, and last night there was even a black rainstorm warning, which reduced the temperature to 25C. The Observatory put out a warning a couple of days ago that we could expect, horror of horrors, 24C next Tuesday. I’d better dig out the mink then.