A Burgundy diary – 24 June 2021

Climate crisis in action: Midsummer Day

It is Midsummer Day and the rain is nearly joined up as it falls steadily from a stolid grey sky. The rain-filled air is windless. From the wide window ahead of me, I cannot see the Morvan hills away to the north-west. Floods will get more frequent; and, round here, serious forest fires – not this year, probably – are inevitable.

I sound Eyoreish? No, just realistic, I believe. I fear for my grand-children. Anyone who is not remarkably stupid – like the awful Mr Trump – can see clear evidence of the crisis. And if they let themselves see. You don’t have to be a member of Green Peace, or hear and understand what David Attenborough is saying, tirelessly, to realise that a nasty future is not very far away, unless we change our lives radically.

If people on this planet go on like this, we – and our grand-children after us – will burn, be burned, or starve in not too many years; or, of course, a handful of the many atom bombs around the world will get us. A grisly end – gradual in flood or fire, or bomb-fed – awaits us. How anyone can fly in an aeroplane (save for matters of life and death; possibly for the essential sake of family) is beyond me. Holiday, and many other flights, flights should be outlawed. A lot of business, we now know, can be conducted on-line; or we can work out how it can be done without air travel.

Till then – today and beneath the rain – the flowers grow, there is green everywhere; and trees and hedges stand greenly in the moist air…

And, yes, its Midsummer Day, one of the quarter days (eg for payment of rent). At law school I learned to remember the quarter days – 25 March, 24 June, 29 September and 25 December. The last is easy, it’s Christmas Day; and for the remaining three, count the letters in the month, and there you are…  

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