The magical summer of 2018
MAYBE it’s the slight chill in the mornings, an AllIreland on us already, or maybe it’s just the tropical storm warnings. But there is sense in the air that this magical summer of 2018 is drawing to a close. And there is a strange acceptance of it too.
Normally we’re people for raging against the dying of the light, but there is a sense this year that we did well. We won’t complain. And we sense that it will be one of those summers we’ll remember forever, and not just because of the hurling.
This was a summer when memories were made. We went from disbelief at the weather, through enjoying it, through moaning, to finally taking it for granted. We saw a glimpse of possibilities, of the better selves we were in good weather. While equally realising that not a tap of work would be done if we had weather like that all the time.
We came to realise that there were two Irelands: Ireland before the weather came and Ireland after the weather came. And many of the things that mattered to us before the weather came didn’t seem to matter as much when it was sunny.
We even suspended our disbelief about Russia. For a month, all was forgiven as we grudgingly admitted that they put on a good World Cup. We even managed to overlook the fact that we weren’t in it, choosing either to live vicariously through England, or else to enjoy giving out about people who supported the English.
We even enjoyed seeing the Brits feel good about themselves for a few weeks, while recognising that if their self-confidence had gone any further it could have tipped into annoying territory.
Brexit trundled on, but we adopted a tone of Zen detachment from it. We decided that what happened would happen whether or not we went up and down with every twist and turn of it. The fact that we paid less attention to it didn’t seem to make a huge difference.
So there’s a lesson there for autumn. For our summer politics we preferred simple stories like Granny Grants.
The impending Papal visit and the associated rows added to the nostalgic feel of summer 2018. And Gavin Duffy and others wanting to be President and prostrating themselves in front of county councillors and punters at the Galway races seemed nicely quaint and summery too.
If there was one lesson we learnt, yet again, this year, it is that we are having summer too late. As we speak, the country is full of people on staycations, feeling hard done by, wishing they had gone in June or July, determinedly wearing brand new summer clothes in the rain. 2018 was the best argument yet for having the kids back in school by now, and letting them off at the start of June.