Sunny all night
“Sunny all night, cloudy all day.” I leaned over and pecked my wife good morning.
“What?” Half awake, she rubbed her eyes.
For most of this year, the nights have been bright and starry and the days dismally grey with little rain. I know because, like most men my age, I get up several times in the night. “And where are the October gales?”
“Next week’s rainy,” she was trying to get up to speed, yawning, rubbing those loving eyes.
“Blinkin’ Climate Change, and the government’s subsidising gas prices to industry….”
“Complex, this period of adjusting to the new demands of Global Warming.”
Wow, I thought, half asleep and she’s sharper than me. “But we’ve been warning about Climate Change for yonks…, all that work I did in the early 1980’s gone with the wind because industry chose to ignore the truth and tell the world we were lying.”
She sat up, “Drunk on excess consumerism, people preferred to listen to the business world than to those who warned of warming.”
“As Prince Charles says, ‘Glasgow is The Last Chance Saloon.’ That’s ten days away! We’ve got to write to our MPs, text, email, Twit, Insta, whatever we can and SOON!” “OK Bush Boy, turn the volume down!” “Oops, sorry. It shows I’m a little better this morning. Better use this energy for the good.”
“MPs never listen…,” she yawned again. “Do any politicians, until their comfy existence is threatened?” “Like us all.”
“But we really are threatened - us, our children all of nature, the world as we know it,” my heart was sinking.
She prodded me, “Go on, get up and start writing….” “You too,” I pulled her from the sheets. “We all must, and now.”