© Cat Morley                                                        Risings above Battersea Park

The other morning afforded a cheerful happenstance of co-incidence: one of those wondrous, inexplicable collision of events involving hot air and gracious floatings.

Owing to a head injury many years ago, I don’t dream: the result of which is that I rise early. When the air’s clear and the birds sing, it is impossible not to go and walk amid nature. But on that morning, that particular 9.vi.19 morning, some strange force held me back from leaving directly once teeth were brushed.

Around six minutes after closing the front door, the midst of a wild meadow is reached. My path takes me East then almost immediately North. That delay now appears a miraculous gift as had I been even a minute earlier, it would have been too early, thus missing the majestic silent glidings into my frame of view by thirty+ Balloons wafting Eastwards, south of the River.

The Balloon Regatta has billowed annually since 2015, weather permitting, and this year raised funds for Onside Youth Zones, Samaritans and Place2Be.

Yeah: hoo noo? It is such a glorious peach of support for The Lord Mayor’s Appeal, the fund embraced annually by holders of this august office.

On this Solstice Morning, floating in splendid imaginings through redeemed Dawn air, rather than lament the shortening days from here on in, I shall attempt to cartwheel through dew in celebration of nature’s sunny miracle and the universal modality we maieut.

Image: Reuters                                                                That boot was a bizarre spectacle from a distance of around seven miles but the whole effect was a magical and mysterious site for sore eyes.

Launching from Battersea Park at who- knows-what- time, they made it to Elephant and Castle by 05.45 and seemingly wafted East to Greenwich.