My nostrils fill with fresh air after the grime and filth has all been washed away. Washed away by thunderstorms that is. The wind rustles through the trees, clouds, laden with more than just foreboding, are coming my way. The forest floor is covered in a carpet of brown leaves. No, this is not some story about an autum far away and long ago. It’s summer, here and now.
On a sidenote, the travel count-down on the right shows only one day remaining before we set off again to Switzerland. The weather there’s not too good either. Better leave those Beach Boys lp’s at home boys, ’cause this endless summer brings only endless rain.
