This post could start fairly predictably, claiming April to be the cruelest month. Except for the fact that April is past, the calendar's well into may, but the summer refuses to become less cruel. So much so, that there is a new word doing the rounds of newspaper weather reports, "discomfort level", calculated on the basis of maximum temperature and relative humidity, and one can say stuff like "yesterday's discomfort level was at 67.5". However, since when did mere numbers manage to sum up experiences?One of medusa's recent favourite songs go something like this:
"Strawberries, cherries and an angel's kiss in spring,
MY summer wine is really made from all these things"
And you've got to hear it to really feel it, it reminds you of a season that's almost mythical in its vegetable bounty, the fruits and the produce. the bright green leaves coming out after they had all fallen off during the winter.....
Kind of like this
bright, and cheerful.
The reality is however stark! Its filled with itches, heat rashes, acne, sweat and stomach upsets, with loss of appetite, lack of sleep, power cuts, a complete disruption of movement during the daytime, thanks to the sun, and a complete all-consuming desire for the liquid, the cool, the cold, the rain.
fantasies of a sea beachMedusa wants to go somewhere, away from this heat and heart/head ache, where the sun doth shine, but a trifle mildly.

p.s. the photographer suffers in this heat worse than medusa has ever seen anyone suffer, and medusa wishes to take the photographer away, where they'll eat, drink and make merry in the gentle breeze, feel the trickle of cool water in their toes and soak in the rain.