Wednesday, 25 September 2013

Confession: I hate summer.

Just as felt like it was safe to chuck my fitflops back into the wardrobe and haul on my hunter wellies, the bloody sun came out again.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WEATHER? I mean come on, it is October next week - I need that cold crisp air, heavy with bonfire smoke, the sun shining only to warm the sky, on a clear blue Autumnal day. That back to school feeling. Except the kids have been back for over 3 weeks...  I need the shops to fill with Halloween tat, and for the temperature to dip enough for me to argue with husband that it is OK to turn on the gas fire that he says we 'may as well pour £10 notes on to it as it costs this much to run it.' He really has turned into Scrooge when it comes to all things gas bill...

I'm over this Indian summer. Maybe that is terribly un-British of me, to wish for colder, wintery-er (new word there) weather. I don't care - I think summer is over rated. There, I've said it.

What is so freakin' good about a sticky hot summer, when you aren't lying by a rippling infinity pool and you aren't drinking cocktails? Think on: you are holed up in a sweat box office, desperately hoping that the 'extra strength' deodorant that you bought will live up to its advert. Or you are crushed like a battery hen against some sweaty smelly man on the tube, as every other man glances at your wet cleavage reflected on the curved tube door windows. As your bosom heaves as you try to gather a morsel of air to breathe in the stagnant humid fetid tube air. Every journey becomes a bind - an epic desert cross, where you have to carry water, a change of clothing and make up supplies to get you from A to B. Because there is NO point in plastering on the slap before you head out - it will have melted off your face by the time you get to that hot date - like a victim from the House of Wax. (Good movie - honest).

Then there is ALL the pressure - to be slim, to have waxed all regions, to remember to apply fake tan (not when you're pissed so you look like marble cake legs) and all that exfoliating and toenail painting and finding a bra that works with a summer dress - it is all STRESSFUL.  Some women - the 6 foot flippy ponytail type with olive skin and a smattering of freckles, they DO summer well. California girls with their sunny sunny faces and figures. Us Brits, or lily white Irish - we do blotchy. We don't even tan after a month in Mexico. We just get weird heat rashes and red patches and the odd burnt nose that peels for eternity. Not a good look.

Plus - all those FEET on show! Now you can dress them up in a pretty sandal or two but at the end of the day - they are there, looking all crooked and dry and gnarled. Oh, just me then?

The heat makes everyone cranky and the only decent thing is being able to hide sneaky glances at hot boys (24 and up obviously) behind a pair of massive shades. No for me, Autumn is the best season. When bikini angst (because no sarong looks great - it just creams - I am hiding my large ass in this teeny bit of see through material. It is now hidden. NO babe, it isn't) has gone. When the sweatiness has subsided. When it is totally cool to wear old baggy jumpers and cashmere socks and great big stonking boots.  When lying in hot baths is important - with glass of red natch. When the dark nights march in and one doesn't feel the need to HAVE to be social. When it is ok to let your kids rot in front of the telly for a whole day. When Sunday roasts become a MUST. When mulled wine starts appearing in shops. When trick or treating comes upon us. When decent films and not blockbuster trash start hitting the flicks.

When we can all stop talking and obsessing about the weather and pretending to enjoy picnics. When we can lie in front of fires watching cracking Autumn telly and be the grouchy grumbling hibernating Brits that we love to be.

*finally takes a breath*

2 comments:

Ariana Kushon said...

I don't really enjoy summer because it just makes my melasma darker. But many people do enjoy the tan. For me, I think I have enough of tanning.

Anonymous said...

This has reminded me that I miss the smell of the sugar beet in York, that to me, was the smell of Autumn. Rachel x