In Competition No. 2405 you were invited to write a poem in praise or dispraise of the month of August. ‘The English winter — ending in July,/ To recommence in August,’ grumbled Byron when he was particularly fed up with the island. On the other hand Day Lewis wrote a delightful poem, ‘A Windy Day in August’:

Dust leaps up, apples thud down,The river’s caught between a smile and a frown…

‘August for the people and their favourite islands’ — today I’m leaving for Andros, which I hope will not prove a people’s favourite.

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