The other day I was out cycling through the New Forest. The trees are still green, but the land is yellow: every single blade of grass is dead. I do not know what the wild ponies and the dear deer that live in the forest are eating now.

For some reason, the poem by William Blake came to mind, with it’s powerful orchestral accompaniment by Edward Elgar: Jerusalem.

It was the last line that drew me: in England’s green and pleasant land.

Is the world too far gone? Is the Industrial Revolution, those dark satanic mills, finally destroying our garden nation?

Half of the UK is in drought. There are wild fires. One started yesterday in The New Forest, caused by a vehicle fire and spreading out from there.

Conversely, in the winter we had more than forty days and nights of continual rain. Even so, not enough to fully replenish our depleted reservoirs from a series of hot summers. At least not enough considering our leaky infrastructure – where water leaks into the soil and profits leak into shareholders’ pockets. Oh and golf courses. They are allowed to water golf courses, but I’m not allowed to water my plants.

I love the summer: I hate the winter, cold, dark, and wet. I get upset when somebody puts the Aircon on because I’ve been cold all winter and I don’t want to be cold all summer. But this summer, like a few of those that preceded it, is scaring me.

All this bickering over flags, and toilets, and a few people in boats, it’s just a distraction.

I’d suggest that if you are really patriotic and really love this green and pleasant land, that you’ll stop worrying about who uses which toilet and stop shouting at hotels and start asking politicians what the fuck they are doing to prevent the UK becoming a desert?