I always think of August as an in-between month: the decline of Summer, when days perceptibly become shorter although still hot. Here the beans and courgettes are flourishing, but the tomatoes only just beginning to ripen, so I have to buy tomatoes in order to cook and freeze the surplus greens. Not yet Autumn, but the annuals are turning untidily, and any rains bring out the most revolting large slugs.
But August brings the run-up to tennis's U.S. Open. This week the Rogers Cup is on in Toronto, and I have a pile of stitching as accompaniment. As further self indulgence I have just finished reading The Silkworm by Robert Galbraith (J.K. Rowling). Much enjoyed, as I have all her books so far. I am also enjoying vicarious bathing with Susie Parr's The Story of Swimming. While I was growing up I used to spend August swimming round the coast from Thessaloniki. Then when I was working August would be spent in the city.