Sticky hands
Giant flies
buzzing
The loud tinkle of the ice cream van
Sun beating down
heavy, humid air
Shade and breeze
summer dresses
windows flung wide open
Because there is no air con
No air con, did you hear that?
The carpet is too hot
My pits are heavy
My head is lolling on my shoulders
Lips bright red and stuck together with countless lollies
Garden chairs
Empty plates outside
A tall glass
Glistening with condensation
Ice cubes tapping the edges gently
Fizz bubbles rising softly and bursting furiously at the top of the brown syrupy liquid
Cold
Britain’s July.
Ocean Bream 