Well, it's been great but I fear that summer is over. Maybe not officially, but it's been cold and cloudy with intermittent torrential downpours for about 2 weeks now and I'm losing faith that we'll get a return to sunshine and warmth. I've found myself wishing I could burrow into my sofa under a blanket for the duration. Meanwhile, I'm the last woman standing at my office who hasn't had her summer holiday and I'm eagerly preparing for our 10 days on the Cote d'Azur at the end of the month. I've been religiously applying Johnson's Holiday Sun self-tanning moisturizer, so my feet are orange and The Irishman says my face is significantly paler than my neck and deems me 'ridiculous'. I'm ignoring him and clutching all of my tank tops and summery dresses because I just can't accept that its mid-August and the Autumn fashions in the magazines have more relevance to the current weather outside my window than they do.
Sometimes I wonder why I choose to live in a country with stunted seasons and a default climate of cold and rainy. Not only is it bleak and depressing, but even now, after a few months of record-breaking heat, I feel like my bones never properly got warm in the summer. My internal temperature gauge never got a good baking. If I don't get to lay in sun, soon, so that I can reset that gauge, I might have to hibernate this winter.