All Stice and no Sol (once again)
It's the longest day, in the northern hemisphere, and with tedious inevitability the sun refuses to show up for the third year running. Solstice means the time when the sun appears to stand still at the very high point of its 'journey' across the heavens. So he should be there, in his own spotlight, taking a bow from his adorers at the very pinnacle of his journey across the heavens, and his victory over darkness. Stonehenge, one of the most impressive megalithic structures in the world, whose solar and astrological alignment betrays a profound significance at which we con only guess, and whose construction took centuries of extraordinary effort and ingenuity clouded in the mists of time. As such, it must be the most redundant public edifice the other side of the Millennium Dome.
For if solstice means sun standing still, our sun has been standing still behind a filthy great bank of cloud, and it's high time he showed a bit more consideration. But can we really expect more, when the odds are so heavily stacked against us? Here's a depressing little historical snippet from my book: our word 'sky' derives from the Old Norse word for 'cloud'. And what do our more fortunate Latin neighbours further south call their sky? The same word for 'heaven'. Whilst they beheld an infinite dome of celestial blue with a golden god riding across it, we looked up and saw, well, very little, and went down the pub. Small wonder the British are known for melancholia, and an urgent need to escape. One in ten British nationals live abroad: the favoured destinations Australia and Spain.
