Something strange has been happening in Wales this week; there is a vast golden ball in the sky. It pours down warmth, opening the flowers and encouraging the bees. This phenomenon is rarely seen here but, when it is, a new, optimistic mood falls upon the people of Wales. They linger in open spaces, talk with neighbours, mow their lawns, light trays of charcoal to cook their food al fresco.
I am convinced it is a good thing, this rare and noble body in our sky but it does have one detrimental effect; it interferes with my writing. I have not managed more than a few sketchy paragraphs for almost a fortnight now. I keep finding myself bent over flowerbeds, trowel in hand, filling wheel barrows with buttercups. It cannot go on and, in all probablity, it won't. So, I will therefore make the most of it, enjoy the warm splendour that is issuing from the heavens and get back to Aelf and Alys next week when a damper, more familiar feel to the weather reappears.
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