Poor Mrs Ray finally cracked. Ever the stoic, she paid no heed to the life-challenging heatwaves and associated power cuts. She disregarded the Covid that raged through her loved ones and took hours-long delays in and out of Gatwick with her usual eudaimonic tranquillity of mind.
The baggage chaos at Heathrow, the melting runway at Luton, the rail/barrister/postal strikes and prospect of our next PM being elected by less than a quarter of 1 per cent of the country; well, they barely registered.
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