She breezed in at the beginning of one Autumn Term. We had spent the summer lazing in our back gardens, trying to find some respite from the harsh sun that scorched Lincolnshire’s open plains. The county had a big sky with very little to fill it apart from the Cathedral and that didn’t throw enough shade.
In the summer months the Bishop himself could be found hugging the walls of this edifice, slowly edging along with the shadows as the sun moved around. Periodically he would escape to refill his chalice from the font. His vestments were a serious impediment to health during these times. Hot and airless. The mitre clung to his damp forehead and the sweat ran into his eyes stinging and making him blink.