A few years ago, on the longest day, I went to the Globe Theatre to watch a fun version of Tristram and Isolde with a friend from work. We had dinner at the restaurant attached to the theatre, looking out over the sultry Thames. It was an incredibly hot day (for England) and I had to change clothes as I'd been walking around London all afternoon. I don't recall what we ate, but it was delicious - it's a very good restaurant. White wine, chilled, the moisture condensing on glass. The play was great - jokes and singing and dancing and, of course, beautifully acted. We were lucky not to have the fierce sun glaring in our eyes. It was a wonderful day and night.
Last year, I booked tickets for the two of us to watch something at the Barbican, but I had to cancel as I got the call up for the Women's World Cup in France. I don't remember the longest day as I was working silly hours. It was hot in Paris though - I do remember that. The city streets soaked up the heat and radiated it back all night. The air lay heavy, a blanket of sun warmed dust, stifling breathing and subduing sound.
And this year, I tried again. But of course the theatres are closed.
So, that proved a short-lived ritual.
For some reason, I have a fondness for the year's two solstices - the longest and the shortest days. The sun rose at 4:43 this morning (I wasn't awake to watch it) and will set at 9:22 tonight - 16 hours and 39 minutes of daylight. This year a rare type of solar eclipse will coincide with the summer solstice. The sun, moon and earth will align, leaving lucky people in the places where you can see it witnessing a dramatic ring of fire. Those are your solstice facts.
The values? Ha! Now isn't it funny that this day will pass for some with just the value of long hours of daylight and whatever it is they do. Maybe a stroll in the country or a queue at the reopened stores. Or perhaps feverish in bed and wishing for darkness. Maybe it's a birthday or the anniversary of something. Maybe it just passes, humdrum and quotidian. But maybe there will be pagans celebrating Litha or driving to wherever they can see Stonehenge. I note that on the English Heritage website is says, 'Cancellation of Summer Solstice at Stonehenge'. Good luck with that - the sun might not be willing to play ball. Apparently Druids are preparing for a 'virtual solstice'. The cosmos, I'm sure, will be as real as ever.
For me, my solstice... well, I had a late night after a long work shift and yet I had to walk the dog before the sun was too hot. Dog days don't suit the dog. But actually it will not be a long day of glorious sunshine. Clouds and rain. Ah well. Still, a midday-for-me catch up with my friend in Australia, who's having a tough time. And then, to prepare for what will be a very late night tomorrow, I would like doze in the garden. Watch the Jenny Wren who's building a nest in my eaves. Early to bed in a room that's, thankfully tonight, not baked by the heat absorbed all day through the slate tiles.
Work processes, affected by safety requirements, take longer. We're still getting used to it. It's slow. And I'm out of the habit of these extended days, with travel time and hours sitting at a desk and at a microphone. Energy conservation. Maybe I can take in some of the summer solstice's cosmic chi.
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