"Good morning" and "good afternoon" is what we used to say. Now, on my way down Mount Sion, as I pass, on the other side of the road, an elderly architect and leading member of the Tunbridge Wells Civic Society on her up, I say "hullo" leaning a little on the "o" to give it the effect of a hail, a sort of low key "ahoy there!". "Hi," she says with a panting undertow brought on perhaps by the steepness of the hill.
Rain approaching from the west has been the theme of the last month and of most of last summer. As low pressure areas continue to form in the Atlantic, it will probably go on soaking us at regular intervals. The wet weather seems to be possessed by the rhythm of a giant garden spray, rotating every three or four days, But yesterday there is an interregnum: the wind drops, the sun comes out, and summer is back as though it has never gone away. It lasts until nightfall. And then rain approaches from the west.