Saturday, June 22

We will get up to a sudden monsoon that starts at about 10:00 and finishes as suddenly as it started a short time later.

The wind rose and the bushes and grasses all leaned over at forty five degrees. The cat made a firm decision that it wouldn’t go out and nobody could persuade it otherwise.

At midday we left for the midsummer concert, which seemed to have more people than usual. We realised that a coach load of tourists, many with American accents, had arrived from Borgå to see the real countryside.

I photograph the band that contains even more accordian players than usual. I have failed every year to determine whether some or all of the accordians play in unison or whether all five play different lines. Next year, I decide, I might just ask.

We will go to Erika’s shop to say hello and buy some provisions. The tourists will arrive and we will leave hastily as approximately fifty tourists try to crowd into the tiny space. “Look, they have Pringles here,” I will hear someone exclaim as we leave.

As we leave I will get a book from the shelf of books-to-exchange: a DCI Banks police procedural. I will see a couple of the books that I left there last summer still available for reading.

The wind will continue all day, making sitting in the garden impossible. I will think about my midsummer resolution from the warmth of the kitchen.