Old Sidebar, False Summer.

This was taken out in the early days of Fallen London for some reason, but i found it on the The Diskworld MUD wiki. Enjoy!
False-summer The Neath has no sunshine. None of the trappings of the seasons. Still it becomes hotter sometimes, more humid. A volcano beneath the Unterzee that releases bubbles of hot, sulphurous gas, like gargantuan belches from a sleeping giant? Actual gargantuan belches from an actual sleeping giant? Convection currents created by the migratory flight patterns of bats are also sometimes blamed? Whatever the reason for these hot spells, they make the chiller fogs of the Neath a distant, pleasant memory.
The Wandering Mirage Nasty, shimmering patches of air float along the streets in the false summers of the Neath. Strange lights sometimes dance in attendance. Far-off places can be glimpsed. Don’t walk through these. There are worse places than Fallen London.
Heat and Dust The Neath’s roughly-annual false-summer brings with it many inconveniences, not the least of which is the proliferation of damp, warm fog. It blows in off the Unterzee, when the breeze is in the right direction. Finding yourself out in it is akin to trying to walk through a hot, wet blanket. One that has recently been used to dry a hot, wet dog.
Summer of Jack False-summer sends Jack-of-Smiles, Fallen London’s most prolific murderer, just that little bit more unhinged. Who can blame him? The maddening, stinging clouds of marsh-gnats, the soupy humidity, the incessant chattering of the brightly-dressed crowds thronging the tea-houses and taverns. Not to mention the extra…temptations provided for him at the edges of said crowds, where citizens may not always be strictly sober or entirely without sin.
Spore-fever False-summer would not be the same without it. All of Fallen London is stricken, at once: sneezing, wheezing, eyes streaming. Handkerchiefs are brandished; eyes are concealed behind smoked glass pince-nez; F.F. Gebrandt sells out of remedies, whether they are intended for spore-fever or not. A city is united in self-pity. There are real cures, but their side-effects are nastier than the symptoms.
Summer in the Neath How to relieve the tedium of the warm season, when condensation drips from the roof of the cavern like a monsoon of stagnant sweat, and Fallen London smells as fresh as a week-old corpse? L.B.s can be paid to attach fans to bonnets. Pomander traders make their fortunes. But the best way of all to cool down is with a delicious fungal ice-cream. Urchin entrepreneurs with handcarts can supply everything from toadstool sorbet to frozen puffball creams. Where do they get the ice to keep their wares cold? Trust your correspondent when I assure you you do not wish to know.

edited by Jack Blackstone on 4/12/2012

These were probably linked to planned seasonal content that was eventually axed, like the Feast of the Exceptional Rose sidebars.

It is a shame, though, that we may never get to try that fungal ice cream. In the Neath at least: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvAPgEzHIRA)


Wait, he’s not serious ^^" Is he?
edited by streetfelineblue on 4/14/2012

waiting for Prisoner’s Honey Ice Cream

I think that would be better as a topping rather than the base for an ice cream itself.

A vanilla ice cream sundae, spiralled through with prisoner’s honey and candied mushroom chunks, topped with a sugar rose drizzled in… whisper it; red honey.

I got The Wandering Mirage today. (Same text as in the OP) Perhaps they hint at the Iron Republic, or the new Ambition content?

We used to bring out the snow and the summer ones only at relevant times of year: but we’ve decided to keep them out all year round.