Clarets to see in the summer

This April was indeed the cruellest month, at least for those of us banged up in cities. From the country came reports of overflowing asparagus beds, the elfin splendour of the bluebell woods, precocious roses: the drinking of rosé, in England, at Easter. Now that we have the prospect of an end to the most onerous restrictions, what is going to happen to the weather? The British approach summer in the same way as the English approach cricket: with mistrust. Glorious days may occur, but there is no faith that they will endure. English cricket and the British climate could share a motto: sic transit.

Yet there are ways of coping with April’s taunting sunshine. The great Falkland used to say that he pitied unlearned men on a rainy day. Even those of us who have no claim to be called learned — by ordinary standards, let alone Falkland’s — can mitigate the hardship of a hot day passed largely indoors, with a book.