June was a dry month, and the garden, which is still verdant, lush, and green, will start showing heat stress unless we have rain in the next week. I find it unbelievable that there are those who still deny the reality of climate change. I wonder if the importance of ‘lived experience’, pardon the academic jargon here, is underestimated.

I know that global weather patterns are changing because I can see it. A simple example is apparent in the weather forecasts I watch. They may have become more sophisticated, but at the core of British weather was the movement of fronts from the Atlantic, across the country, from the west to the east. These brought rain, wind and, occasionally, storms. One neighbour used to watch forecasts for the North American east coast. She believed that they presaged the UK’s weather by three or four days. This year, the normal orderly progression of fronts marching across the UK has not happened, the weather has come from the north, south and occasionally even from the east.

A person in their 20s will not really have a concept of what the ‘normal’ weather should ‘feel’ like. For them the question is: what is normal? We are seeing more extreme weather events, but to younger people they may not seem extreme, because they are part of their normal. The dreadful metaphor of boiling a frog may have more immediate and extensive application that we appreciate. I don’t think we have given enough thought as to how we communicate the challenges we face.

In June we travelled to a funeral. My sister-in-law’s father died in his mid-90’s leaving a widow, his children and three granddaughters. The service was in Warrington, a town close to Liverpool, on the other side of the country. We travelled across by train, a journey that took over five hours, spent a night in a little hotel and returned the next day, after the service. The cross-country rail services are slow, but the train had a buffet and was comfortable. Unexpectedly the journey back was on a fast train to St Pancras in London, we then had four stops on the tube, to get to Liverpool Street Station for an Inter-City train to Norwich. This was the cheapest, fastest and most convenient option, and the online booking system made the choice for us. I am happy to report that all the trains were on time!

I am not going to mention the name of the hotel/pub we stayed in. I cannot be complimentary and need to share my comments with them first. They are part of a small chain, hopefully, they may take some action. So, what was the problem? Well, again it comes back to climate change and being ready for it. The room was comfortable and the staff friendly. The problem was the temperature. The room was quite airless, and it was impossible to open the window more than four inches. There is a wire fixed to the window and frame that restricts it. My eyes lit on what looked like an air conditioning remote control. When I picked it up, the notice on it said it was to control the temperature. In even smaller writing was a note saying it would only control the heating! Clearly hotels need to think about the warming world we occupy!

The ceremony was moving. The son and three granddaughters each spoke briefly. The composure of the girls was outstanding. Clearly the man had been a really important part of their lives, and this came through in their eulogies. He was born into a poor family and had made good. Apart from the family, most of the congregation comprised elderly men, people he had worked or golfed with. They, mostly, had military bearing, wore smart blazers, and almost all had amazingly bushy white eyebrows! I was impressed and envious.

Back in Norwich I have been appreciating the birdlife in the garden and outside my office. As I walked to the office the other morning, I was aware of blackbirds on the lawn, blue tits pecking at the birdfeeder, the raucous magpies in the pine tree at the end of the garden, a questing squirrel, and a frog leaping out of my way. Other regular visitors include starlings and sparrows. Sometimes it feels as though I have strayed onto the set of Disney’s Fantasia. The blue tits even occasionally sit on the window ledge and peck at the glass. I am not at all sure what this behaviour is about.

I sometimes leave my office door open, and I have come back on a few occasions to find blackbirds or blue tits inside. I wonder if they have worked out where the morning ration of mealworms comes from and want to raid the source. They panic, and I don’t blame them, so I gently usher them out through the window! As long as no-one gets hurt, I don’t mind, but I should remember to shut my door. I have tried playing the songs of blackbirds, which are available on the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) website. My blackbirds stand on the doorstep and look querulous.

Across the world, 2023 marks 60 years since Waterford Kamhlaba, the school in Swaziland that I attended, was established. I was a student there from 1969 to 1974 and then was on the Governing Council for a ridiculous 23 years from 1994 to 2017. There are plans for a weekend of activities to mark the anniversary at the end of July. I am hoping and planning to go. It will probably be my last visit for some time.

One thing I may do is enter the Waterford Kamhlaba Challenge. The idea is individuals set themselves challenges and invite friends to contribute/sponsor them. It is not dissimilar to sponsored runs or swims. A recent example is Ashley Green-Thompson who finished his 10th Comrades Marathon in June. He was on the Governing Council with me (I think he still is), and though he is athletic, it is still a huge achievement.

I think I am up for a challenge, but it must be realistic. I am proposing to do a month of walking and the challenge I will set myself will be to walk at least 50 kilometres a week for four weeks, a total of 200 kilometres. To put this into context it is just under three times the Comrade’s Route and just over the distance from Norwich to London. I will give people plenty of notice, but its success will depend on people noticing my efforts and supporting me. The advantage is it will also be an added incentive to keep working on my fitness. Assuming I go ahead it will be put on the challenge website.

With any luck I will be heading for Durban in the course of the next week. It has been more than six months since I was last there, which is too long. There is some logic in this though, I really hate the heat and humidity of January to the end of March, and, if I am honest, parts of April. This means May was the earliest I could have travelled. I had wanted to travel before, but a series of events held me up. One new reality is that flights are increasingly expensive. The days of cheap intercontinental travel are over. The good thing is that will mean fewer long-haul flights.

I don’t have fixed plans, other than to be in Mbabane for the 60th anniversary on the 29th July. I hope a colleague will keep me company on the drive. I would do it over two days, but it is very boring to do alone. I have every intention to get down to Cape Town and I was thinking about swinging past Makhanda, formerly known as Grahamstown. This is the home of Rhodes University and NISC, the publisher of the African Journal of AIDS Research for which I have been the Editor-in-Chief for 10 years. This is my last year. The AIDS pandemic has not gone away, but I find it harder to think of new things to say and do. It is time to hand the baton over and find someone fresh and enthusiastic.

There is one last thing before I end off and post this. I am still managing to write for my ‘memoir’, if indeed that is what it turns out to be. At the end of June, I had just under 65,000 words and want to get at least 80,000 written. It will then need extensive revision and editing, but at least I will have something I can share. The memoir covers some family history, and the period from my birth (1956) up to the end of my MA in 1980. Writing it has been an interesting journey and, as I have researched a number of events, I have learnt a great deal about my past, the family and the environment in which I grew up. Surprisingly it is not all about me!