What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps one in a continual state of inelegance.
Jane Austen, letter to her sister Cassandra, 1796
“Horses sweat, gentleman perspire, and ladies gently glow.”
My mother, c. 1965, quoting her grandmother who was born in the Victorian era
How lucky was I to find this Beautiful Demoiselle sitting on a low branch of the red chestnut tree this morning? She was so calm I was able to move steadily closer till I ended up kneeling about four feet away from her, and it was only when I stood up – laboriously – that she got a little bit irritated. Even then though she only skipped up the tree by a couple of feet, and I could have carried on my shoot quite well from a standing position, but at this point I figured she’d probably had enough – and I definitely had: by this time my glow was so ungentle, it was dripping off the end of my chin.
Because I had my damsel I felt able to skulk in the house for most of the rest of the day, but at about 5pm I rashly decided to walk through the village to the old pond, to see if there were any other dragons about. If I’d checked the house thermometers before I set out, I wouldn’t have bothered – it was 30°C in the kitchen, and 40° out on the patio, and by the time I got back home I was glowing like a 3-bar electric fire. There were no dragons, probably because they had more sense than I did, but I did find a teneral Banded Demoselle, who must have emerged during the day from the shallow puddle which is all that remains of the brook that cuts through the middle of the village. She must have been desperate, poor thing – imagine your watery home, and the medium you’re currently breathing, disappearing around you day by day. There are worse things than being hot.
R: L2, C10, D47.
