Chronicle90

August 9, 2018 at 6:50am (Mizala, Spain)

BY KEVIN MULLINS

It's the 9th August and the day unfolds exactly the same way as the previous nine days have.
I rise early, I sit and watch an amazing sunrise with a cup of coffee while the rest of the house sleeps.

Already, even at before 7am the temperature is 25 degrees Celsius and we've been experiencing highs of around 39 degrees the past week or so.

I think the super heatwave that has been engulfing Europe is over, for now, and we'll be back to the regular 34 or 35 which is common for this part of the world.

Today I thought I'd show you a few stills stollen from some drone footage I've been taken (with a couple X-E3 images thrown in for the mix).

I'm able to stretch the legs of the drone properly here.  We are in a huge valley in the Andalucian moauntains.  Very few people, and lots of countryside.

I'm aware that it looks like we are existing on Mars, but I can assure you it's beutiful, its warm and its as relaxing as hell.
 

August 8, 2018 at 11.54 AM (Zaventem, Belgium)

BY BERT STEPHANI

We have been keeping the curtains shut for weeks to keep at least some of the heat out. But to not much avail, Belgian houses are not built for long stretches of 30C plus days. In the morning it's 28.5 degrees in the living room, which is the coolest part of the house. A tarp brings some illusion of shade but the only way to cool down is take a shower and in the process I get a nose bleed from the temperature contrast. 

In the mean time, Noa woke up and after a breakfast of cereal and YouTube, she helps me make some healthy snacks. Exercising in this weather is suicide so I try to take extra care of eating healthy. Slicing and drying fruit feels like a workout in itself. 

Noa and Maya are getting bored sitting at home with a dad that's trying to get some work done and therefor is of no use to them. Every summer, I deal with this. I feel guilty that I can't do fun things with them all the time and I feel guilty that I'm behind on work. Like every year, I'm trying to come up with a solution but can't find it. So I drive them to my parents where they'll have something to do. 

The weather forecast is promising us thunderstorms and rain. And indeed by 8 AM the clouds roll in and a few drops of cool rain start to fall. Three minutes later they have evaporated again and the only way to cool down is ice cream and another shower.

It's too hot to sleep so I watch the weather app and see one thunderstorm after the other skirt past my town. But then it finally happens. The wind is slamming doors and rain starts coming down hard for ten minutes. With the bedroom window wide open, a gentle breeze caressing our bodies to sleep at 4 AM. 

I'm so tired that I never hear Griet leave for work and I wake up at 9:30. I make some more healthy snacks (Mexican Honey Chicken Jerky) and come to the conclusion that nothing has changed. 

25 July 2018 at 10:07 am (Darlinghurst, Australia)

25 July 2018 at 10:07 am (Darlinghurst, Australia)

It's nearly time. We're going soon.

I'm backing up. Packing up. Hitting the road, the rails, the sky - these are our last hours in Australia, and my mind is already ahead of us; even while the things around us are familiar, in my head we're in Toronto…

JULY 26, 2018 at 3:30 PM (MOTHERWELL, SCOTLAND)

By Derek Clark

My sister lost her fight with cancer at 4:47 am on Tuesday 17th July 2018. She was 55 years old. Joyce was diagnosed with a brain tumour back in November 2016 and despite 6 months of radiotherapy, 14 months of chemotherapy, cannabis oil and honey imported from Israel, one tumour became two and it was clear treatment was not going to work.

Joyce kept her sense of humour right to the end, she never complained or showed any sign of self-pity, but a stroke changed her permanently and made communication more difficult and then finally almost impossible. At the end it was although everything but her lungs shut down, each breath a fight for survival. In the last few minutes of her life, she managed to open her eyes. She was surrounded by family, each of us holding on to her, making sure she knew we were there. Finally, her breath slowed, a few more breaths with longer gaps in between and then silence. She was gone forever.

July 24th, 2018. The funeral was today, exactly one week after she died. We couldn’t believe how many people showed up to pay their respects. It was a sea of faces, some I knew some I didn’t and some I should have known, but didn’t recognise. As requested by my brother in law, Joyce’s coffin was carried by her three brothers and three sons as her favourite singer Andrea Bocelli played in the background.

I've been asked so many times in the past week how I and the rest of my family were. I say that we’re ok, we're getting there. But the real truth is that we are all hanging by a thread right now. My brother in law, their three sons, my two brothers and our other halves, we’re all hanging by a thread. But my parents just buried their only daughter and that's just not right. It's not the way it's supposed to happen. I don't know how they're supposed to move on from this.

So we are all hanging by a thread. But we’re a close family, and if you twist and intertwine thread it becomes rope, and rope anchors the ship, it holds down the tents in a storm. As I write these words I look down at my wrist at the piece of climbing rope that’s been there for almost a year. I realise that it's the stuff that keeps us from falling.

Click on each picture for the caption