Summer: It’s no picnic
CAN I let you in on a secret of mine?
I find summer a teeny, tiny bit of a drag.
There, I’ve said it. I’ll never get invited to a barbecue again. With a bit of luck.
Oh, on the face of it, the idea of summer is wonderful. Warmer days, balmy nights, ice creams and holidays. Sandals, beaches, strawberries and Wimbledon.
School’s out, the dark shackles of winter are off and life, at least according to the ads on the telly, is one long round of picnics in the park. But the reality seldom lives up to the hype or the personal expectation, does it?
And it’s the hope that kills you. For a start, can we discuss the weather? Two months ago I invested in new garden chairs and far I have sat on them once. When the sun did appear – for about 12 hours a couple of weeks ago – I was tethered to my non air conditioned home office so could only gaze upon their rattan loveliness out of the window.
By the time I had finished work it was raining.
Then there’s all that pressure around your summer ‘look’. The relentless personal care regime, the must-have frock, the threeline-whip that says sandals are obligatory no matter what the state of your crusty heels.
I can do winter. It’s boots and tights that hide your unshaven legs and unpainted toenails, big jumpers that disguise those lockdown pounds. But by early June, the message from all those glossy mags is that you have to be summer-body-ready.
That means lightly tanned skin and nicely toned arms and pedicures and a dewy, just-back-fromthe-beach complexion even if the furthest you’ve been on your travels is to Blackpool.
It’s all too easy to buy into it and it’s exhausting.
The biggest bugbear though, is the unspoken expectation to have summer fun ALL THE TIME because if you waste one second of your day off or those six relentless weeks with the kids, you will have failed as a human being.
I can’t lie. I enjoy sitting on the couch with a coffee and a Hobnob and an episode of Judge Judy. But from May through to August,
I am guilt-ridden that I’m not out somewhere ‘making the most’ of summer learning to kayak or wanso dering through a meadow in a floppy hat or at least laughing with carefree friends in a beer garden. I hide it well, of course, but honestly? September can’t come quickly enough.
I always assumed I was just a misery guts but news reached me this week that I may have something called summertime SAD. According to a magazine article, just as some people get SAD in winter because of too little light, some get antsy in the summer because of too much.
All about your circadian rhythm apparently. And possibly, in my case, prickly heat. Anyway, now I know what it is, I immediately feel much better about not being in with the summertime in-crowd. I might even ditch Judge Judy for a stroll in the park. Maybe.
The biggest bugbear though, is the unspoken expectation to have summer fun ALL THE TIME...