“A storm is creeping across the horizon like a black beast”

I AM in Dunnes Stores, stockpiling firelighters and recalibrating my relationship with summer.

“Just because someone killed the sun 23 summers back, and it’s pissing down, does not mean summer hasn’t arrived,” I think, loading eight boxes of firelighters into my trolley.

“There are all sorts of other signifiers,” I remind myself, flinging in six boxes of matches after them, “besides the sun, to gladden the heart and help you remember what season currently prevails.”