Greetings and Felicitations Children of Deep Summer

Even with the curtains closed, the bedsit is ridiculously bright. Leaning forward, as the window is obscured by the TV to my immediate left, I see seven blocks of window frame delineated sun-brightness pushed against the infected-yellow pallor of the curtain. There is the sound of seagulls, a clamour of urgency and antagonism, explosions of sound leading to a climax, a gull-epiphany, and then a fade out to the silence of cars, of taxis, of the rubbish truck making its way along the street, emptying the communal bins.
I didn't sleep well last night - not after 4am or so. I kept waking up every fifteen minutes, these quarter hours of sleep punctuated with restless dreams, none of which I can remember now. I eventually got up ten minute before the alarm, had a shower and now sit in this too-bright bedsit waiting to go to work.
Last night, as I was dropping off to sleep, there was the sound of a church bell chiming. I could barely make it out, the noise just hovering on the edge of consciousness. I woke myself up, listened for it more carefully - yes, it was definitely there. It was an incredibly lonely and isolated sound, but also seemed to be surrounded by other sounds, none of which I could quite distinguish. I checked my watch, expecting it to be midnight, and I saw that it was 12:17AM. There was no reason for a bell to chime at this hour, even one on the far reaches of consciousness -not that that there is a church around here that is armed with such a bell. I imagine the bell tolled to bring in deep summer, rang in some hidden church of sunburn, fever and seagulls.