Signs that you’re not a summer person
Seasonal Affective Pressure Why should I be outside all the time just because it’s summer – all it means is that everything is sweatier and dustier
Right. I’ll get straight to the point. Summer is not, for some of us, the high point of everything. The fact that it’s universally thought to be the golden gift that makes the gloom of the preceding weeks and months bearable is a big part of the problem. Not loving summer puts you on the wrong side of life. It is the starting point for Seasonal Affective Pressure (or SAP).
I have SAP, quite badly as it happens. This year it’s worse than usual, possibly because there was that perfect weather in May – by which I mean just enough sun to lift the spirits but not so much that you had to drag a table outside, or only meet friends in pubs that have gardens, or head to the park at every single opportunity when just a couple of weeks ago you were free to stretch out on the sofa in front of Netflix with a hot chocolate, no questions asked. There was no pressure then, which makes these glorious June days all the harder to bear.
The number one Seasonal Affective Pressure is constantly being judged for how much advantage you’re taking of the weather. The sun is out, it’s not raining, but that doesn’t mean I want to be outdoors every moment of the day, lunching al fresco, or playing rounders, or lying on the grass reading my book. I’m not on holiday in Provence or living by the sea; and, honestly, everything is pretty much the same, just sweatier and dustier.
But it’s summer! Our first duty, no matter what, is Being Outside. “You can’t go to the theatre on a night like this,” summer lovers will say. (No, you have to sit outside their back door in the dark, getting eaten alive.) The same lot want to fire up their pot belly stove, or meet for a picnic in the park, before you can say “excellent weekend forecast”. But I never want to sit on a rug in the sun sipping wine out of a paper cup. You always feel awkward at a picnic and at some point you will look down and think, “Dear God. Are those my legs? They didn’t look like that in the bathroom!” That’s the other thing about summer. There is nowhere to hide.
SAP two: You need summer clothes. That is, a whole separate set of clothes from your normal, flattering and comfortable wardrobe. You will never quite get this organised in time (it’s not easy) or manage to strike the right British summer note because you are not 25, and the whole footwear thing is a nightmare. It’s either too hot or it’s too casual and it all gives you blisters. Also, you have to show some skin (unless you are 25) and this doubles the effort you were making on the grooming front and generally makes you feel edgy and 20per cent underprepared. However OK you are about your body, come summer you feel unwieldy, bristly and, basically, fat.
SAP three: getting summer propped on the domestic front. It’s like Christmas in terms of what is expected – only instead of nuts and holly and a tree, you need a £400 jet-powered Dyson fan, a chiminea, a five-star parasol, and toddler-sized hurricane lamps. Forget the basic barbecue. As of now, you must have varied arrangements of cut flowers (the seasonal sort – you’re not getting away with supermarket lilies for the next few months) and cutlery in jugs, and giant platters. You need halloumi and pomegranate seeds and grilled courgettes, all laid out Very Flat. You need to marinade. It’s a lot more pressure than stew.
SAP four: having a heady social summer. A big part of the “makingthe-most-of-summer” pressure is this idea that your house should be permanently full of barefoot, sun-kissed people in white trousers and embroidered peasant dresses. But come the summer, they’re all away, or about to go away, or throwing their own “see how much I love summer” parties.
It’s depressing, really.
‘You need halloumi and grilled courgettes, all laid out Very Flat. You need to marinade. It’s a lot more pressure than stew’