My Darling Lovelies. I don’t like to use the word “hate” on this blog, because this is a blog about love and lovely things, but I do have to get something off my lobster-red, sunburned chest – mainly in the hope that I’m not alone: I hate summer.
Will the madness never end?
Summer is the time of year when everyone flocks outside in excitement at the “lovely” weather. It’s the topic of office water-cooler talk, headlines screaming about summer heatwaves, people flocking to even more tropical climates.
And then there’s me – squinting to read the article I’m writing through puffy, watery, itchy eyes – pausing to sneeze every minute then howling in agony because I’ve accidentally grazed my sunburned back against the sofa. Borderline narcoleptic from the heat and barely able to form coherent sentences, unable to open my eyes for more than a few minutes at a time in the blinding sunlight, frazzled, dehydrated, body conscious and quite honestly fed up with the stupid summertime.
Yes, I am a rare breed of human whose idea of holiday hell is lying on a hot beach. I’m someone who wears sunglasses when it’s cloudy, hates the idea of wearing skimpy clothing and am allergic to absolutely everything. I hate summer.
Sure, there’s ice cream and everyone else seems happier, but it’s hard to enjoy all of that when going outside is a long routine of covering every part of my exposed skin in lotion, or it’s impossible to go out at midday because I can’t drive anywhere for the glare from other cars
Fortunately, there’s just one month left to go until the cool autumn comes in with its crisp smell, air of excitement, beautiful bronzed leaves and, of course, my birthday. With it will come my eyesight, my sanity and my ability to sleep in beyond 5am (no matter how good my curtains are, I wake up with the sun).
So a silly piece, but an important one. I despise summer and everything that comes with it. Who’s with me?