1955, 1976 and 2018 – the weeks of sun that were once an innocent pleasure, I now see in the context of climate change The sun shone and shone over County Cork last week, just as it did over most of Britain. When we came last year, to the same place in the same week, the steep banks of the lanes grew thick with wild roses, fuchsia and foxgloves; now the vegetation looked limper and dustier, the roses drier, the foxgloves solitary and stooped. But a poorer foreground view had its compensation in the background, where the lack of drizzle, cloud and mist revealed a rolling landscape of hills and woods that was unexpectedly Tuscan in its clarity. By four in the afternoon, the airless main streets of the small towns felt like ovens.
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