Summer arrives... and an old habit returns

At last, summer has arrived in murky London. The fog that normally gathers in thick piles across Oxford Street has flowed away into the side streets and the sign at Selfridges was visible beyond two o'clock in the afternoon! Such was the temperature that I saw one audacious lady venture out with a bare wrist.

Enlivened by the clemency, I ventured down to Holland Park where I desired to spend a few idle hours worrying the Queen's peafowl with a jar of goose fat. Sadly, they had already been attacked by Baron Tennyson who I saw being dragged away by two Peelers while clutching a potted ham to his chest.

With no fowl to trouble, my mind was quickly stultified in the heat and I confess I became a little mischievous. Forgetting all of my recent promises, I took a match to a fine old English beech in the Kyoto Gardens and watched it light up with devilish glee. Recalling a stay with the Swtllthth people in Lower @land and their magnificent rituals, I stripped to my longjohns and did a tribal dance around the tree, chanting thoughtfully.

However, the fire got a little out of hand and I quickly slipped away to a safe distance to witness the slow response of the city's fire service. The fire had engulfed all of the south east side of the park, not to mention a row of houses in Kensington, before the officers gained control of the blaze! By which point, I was safely watching the activities from the Fountain Tea Room across the high street.

It is, incidentally, remarkably difficult to get served high tea when dressed only in a pair of long johns.