" The towering cloud unfurled its edge, shoved the sun’s face away and spewed a vile violet light that curdled all colour. The grass greyed, all the dandelions dimmed and bleached, the scarlet lining of his coat rotted to mildew, his hands grew pallid, washed old and deathly, and he felt the cold steal up his legs and swallow him. "

― Chris Packham , Fingers in the Sparkle Jar: A Memoir