Summer Interlude - where's next?

The grass has burned to a yellow brown. 

For many weeks, the sky has been a deep blue, with scarcely a cloud in the sky.

Each morning I wake confused; surely I am back in New Zealand? The water is even warmer than Wainui! 

                                           

Is it possible that I am really in Wales?

The birds have fallen silent. We see them panting on the road verges looking for cooling shade. These are Welsh birds, evolved over countless generations to survive rain and gales and now they are expected to withstand 35C.

My enemies, the voles, have disappeared. I suspect there are easier pickings nearby with fields of barley and potatoes; the latter are now being irrigated. I can hear the distant drone of the tractor pumping water from the nearby pond. The stream that runs into the river has almost dried. I'm irrigating my garden as well; the first tomatoes and runner beans are being consumed. We have had courgettes,

lettuce and broad beans for several weeks. The sweet corn is dong well but other plants are wilting despite a nightly burst of water. Dining is now totally 'al fresco', a Mediterranean diet in a Mediterranean climate!

Soon there will be a hosepipe ban- one has already been declared in north Pembrokeshire, now that the English tourists have arrived to fill their winter-empty cottages.

There was a major drought in these parts in 1976. The old boys who were around then have started saying "This is worse than '76." 

 I am slightly annoyed to find that I am one of them!

In parts of Europe the temperatures are regularly soaring above 40C. I am particularly focused on the Bordeaux region as we are due to fly there soon for a grand family holiday in a villa. I am not sure this will be happening?

The heat is limiting. Early starts for physical work become the norm. Office work is for the hot afternoons.

The dreary, dusty, depressing job of cleaning out my parent's house continues: I am now seriously doubting whether my father ever threw anything away!

"There is no such thing as a useless piece of 2" x1"!" was a common saying of his; but did he really need 187 pieces, each less than a metre long? I am contemplating a kindling production business.

The property has been placed on the market locally while the clean out continues. It's strange to see a "for Sale sign there after 60 years. Meanwhile my mother slowly fadeaway in the retirement home. It is sad to see such an alert kind woman so agitated and confused.

The river has been a godsend for swimming and a few kayak paddles. And the old RIB has taken to the water a few times. One recent trip (and we had thankfully only travelled  only a few hundred yards upstream) led to a major panic as a split appeared in the hull and the water gushed in. No Mayday was required as I limped back to shore and a major glue job has repaired things; she now gamely awaits her next voyage. Last summer it was engine issues - this year it is the hull! A local has rechristened her "Titanic".

Despite the heat, I need to get away. A few days walking will reduce the tension of this busy time and burning climate. 

Where shall I head next?