locate the cans of beer on the ground at the side of the chair.
The metal frame and thin cloth covering of the deckchair proved to be deceptively comfortable and it did not take long for me to begin to slide away into a light sleep. The heat and drink combined to deadly effect to help me lose consciousness with the minimum of fuss. Occasionally a soft breeze drifted across the garden, but it was never strong enough to wake me for more than a couple of seconds.
At around nine-thirty, an unexpected crackle of static from the radio woke me with a start. It had been playing quiet, tinny music all evening without interruption but had now begun to scream and hiss with distortion. Still half asleep, I struggled in the gloom to find the set with one outstretched arm. With fingers flailing, I grabbed the wire aerial and swung it around to try and relocate the station's elusive signal. When the music was replaced totally by static and white noise, I sat up and picked the radio angrily off the ground. As I toyed with the controls, a heavy and hot wind blew across my face. The wind was gentle and somehow directionless and it seemed to fall onto me rather than be blown. I looked up into the night sky to try and find the source of the breeze and was amazed when the whole panorama of darkness above me began to change colour.
At first deep black and punctuated only by the brilliance of individual, isolated stars, the sky changed initially to a ruddy brown before lightening and working its way from a deep red to a dull orange, almost as bright as the last glowing embers in a dying fire. I watched and rubbed my tired eyes, unsure if what I was seeing was really there or if it was just a trick of the night. Slowly, the colours reversed and the sky worked its way back to its original dull blackness. The radio in my hands crackled back into life and, as the warm wind subsided, the music began to blast out of the speakers once again.
I put the machine back on the ground and relaxed again in the deckchair. I looked up at the heavens above and wondered about what I had just seen. Half of my mind seemed intent on finding a link between the hot conditions and the light and wind I had just experienced whilst the other half of me wanted nothing more than to ignore it and go back to sleep. The latter part of my brain was starting to win its battle with the other until, just as I was beginning to lose consciousness again, the telephone rang inside the house. Angry, tired and irritated. I jumped up out of my chair and knocked a half-finished can of beer over onto the patio. For a moment I watched as the liquid fizzed and frothed away in the pale light, before going into the house to answer the call.
Still not quite awake, I picked up the telephone receiver and held it to my ear.
'All right, Steve! Did you see that?' asked an annoyingly cheerful voice at the other end of the line. I recognised its owner immediately as Mark Evans, an old close friend.
'If you've just phoned me up to ask that, Mark, then our friendship could well be on its last legs,' I said as I tried to stifle a tired yawn. He ignored my idle threats.
'Did you see it?' he asked again. 'Wasn't it incredible?'
'Mark,' I said abruptly, becoming more and more irritated with each passing moment, 'yes, I did see the sky change and yes, to be honest, it was very unusual and very impressive. If you don't mind though, I was just about to go to sleep.'
'Boring bastard!' he snapped. 'Anyway, I didn't just call to ask about that, I wanted to know if you're still going out for a drink on Monday.'
At the mention of drinking and of going out, my tone changed and I actually managed to feign interest in the conversation.
'Fine, mate. Shall I pick you up about eight?'
'Okay,' Mark replied. 'But only if you're in a better mood. You've got to lighten up if you're going out with me.'
'I will,' I promised. 'I've just had a bad day, that's all.' I was keen not to talk about work and swiftly switched the conversation to another topic. 'Is Stuart still coming with us?' I asked.
Stuart