They’d never seen the grass turn yellow before. It was the first sign of the change. The next were the bush fires in Manchester, home of red hot football now also the home of red hot grasses in the peak district.
The first wave of heat fevers started after thirty days without rain, without the temperature gauge dropping below 30 °, even at night. Tarmac had melted, you really could fry an egg on the pavement. Sometimes the car temp gauge touched forty. Initially the Brits did what they always do, carry on. Sport’s days continued oblivious, country strolls and park runs carried on despite the evidence the sun was trying to present. When the temperatures in the highlands matched the rest of the island, a few people furrowed their brows but most shrugged and said, “Oh well, it’s nice that summer has finally arrived.”
Then news reports…
View original post 537 more words