It is as hot in Swanvale Halt as anywhere else, and the landscape still looks lush rather than parched. I took Mad Trevor out for a short drive, as we now do occasionally. It gets him out of his flat, now that his car sits rusting, mouldy and unusable, and it seems the most useful thing I can do for him. Today I took him to Cutmill Tarn, which is not far away. He didn't get out of the car, claiming a bad back, but I did, and was glad I had.
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