A while ago, a group of us arranged a day at Kew Gardens, little knowing that the summer was going to be as miserable as it has been. Yesterday I was in two minds whether to go, having been repeatedly soaked by monsoon force rain every time I went out. This negativity was reinforced by the drumming of the rain on my bedroom window as I tried to go to sleep at around midnight.
It was with trepidation, that I opened my bedroom curtains this morning. With relief, I saw that the path outside was dry and the sky blue. By 9am and two washing loads later, I was even looking forward to the day, reassured by the weather forecast that it would remain dry until tomorrow.
The journey was long but uneventful. Connections worked well and we were soon at the entrance to Kew Gardens, keen to walk around the grounds and see the varied and rare flora.
It turned out to be a lovely day, with lots to hold my interest as well as good company and best of all the appearance of the sun.
What happened to our summer? Who pushed the jet stream away from us, leaving only rain. I’m fed up of having to wear shoes and a raincoat, fed up of getting soaked every time I venture out. My brain is waterlogged, hands and feet cold and damp. How I yearn for the warmth of the sun on my bare skin, sitting outside on a warm night, watching the sun set, drinking cider. Instead, I’m trapped inside, pulling a blanket round me, convincing myself that I don’t need the heating on. Sadly my hands and feet aren’t listening as they turn blue and then numb white.
I’m off to meet a friend in Central London soon and hope it won’t be a repeat of a previous rainy meeting.
pounded the city jungle last night
as we hurried,
heads down, hoods up,
along Charing Cross Road
past the station into Villiers Street.
I wished we could climb
above leaden clouds
to blue skies and sun’s warmth
but the rain kept gushing
rivers over the cobblestones,
soaking through layered clothes,
squelching our feet.
we took refuge in a pub
as we dripped water onto parquet flooring
dreaming of summer sunshine
and heat on bare limbs.
I wish certain vocal politicians could have been present at our annual book award ceremony on Wednesday. They would have seen that many children and teenagers (boys and girls) do still love to read. Nearly three hundred students from 15 local secondary schools and 5 primary schools came along on Wednesday.
The hall looked amazing and very patriotic in honour of the Jubilee and forthcoming olympics. Twenty five round tables were draped in blue and red tablecloths. In the centre of each were a cluster of red, white and blue balloons.
There was an exciting buzz in the room as children crowded around the four authors who had kindly agreed to be there, waiting to get their books signed (we sold over £800 worth of books). They participated enthusiastically in the quiz and many groans and cheers could be heard as the answers were read out. They listened to the authors talk and asked lots of questions.
Not only do the children read but they love to write as well and the winners of the poetry and short story competition read out their pieces.
Finally the winners of the Book Award were announced.
Artichoke Hearts by Sita Brahmachari won the Children’s Book Award
Entangled by Cat Clarke won the Teenage Book Award.
A huge thanks goes to the authors who came along – Cat Clarke, Sita Brahmachari, Barbara Mitchelhill and Kevin Brooks, who played a big part in making the event a success.