by Ron Palmer
Monday, 8th February 1779
The summer had been unusually hot. The old people were claiming that they had known nothing like it in living memory. For weeks now, the temperatures had been extremely high during the day with precious little relief at night. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky for more than two weeks and the air was so clear and still as to allow the sounds of the farm workers harvesting the corn to be carried for great distances across the fields. Hot it might be but as country folk often do, they could see the advantages as well as the downside in these matters. In this particular case, the harvest could be brought in and stacked. The weather was ideal for that at least. After the harvest, the rain and the cooler weather would be welcome.
In his excitement, he had been running, bursting to tell his news to his mother and father but, becoming short of breath and over-heated, had stopped at the junction hoping…