The weather is really starting to become an obsession of late. When you’re working in an office the weather is something incidental that happens outside the window, or when you’re walking to and from the station. The only weather that counts is at the weekend, or in my husband’s case, when he’s scheduled to play cricket.
Opening the curtains this morning I felt a rush of excitement because the sun was out. The light glistened through the leaves of the horse chestnut tree and the sky was a soft blue. ‘Summer is finally arriving’ I wishfully thought, as I optimistically pulled on a skirt. ‘It’s going to be warm today’, I determinedly told the children as I handed my son his school shorts. But, by the time we were downstairs having breakfast (just a little bit behind the mythical schedule) the ominous clouds had already rolled in, the wind had picked up and the colours in the front garden were back to a rather subdued, muted green.
My optimism was unfoundered. ‘We’re walking to school today, because the sun’s out!’ Out we charged in minimal attire, and soon enough my son’s legs were all goose-pimpled, I was tucking my scarf into my light summer jacket, while my daughter alone was unfussed, as frankly she’s inherited an iron constitution from my mother-in-law, who nonchalantly wanders outside with bare arms in mid-winter, while we all scream at her to close the door.
Another mother on the school run caught up with us on the way, as I gave my son a lesson in speaking to me with ‘a big voice’, rather than saying ‘Mummy….’ then speaking the rest of his sentence in a mumble to the passing traffic, the pavement or his navel. He was countering that speaking audibly would make him ‘exhaaaaausted’. Meanwhile, the other mother brightly told me that back home in her native Poland they had had three consecutive weeks of at least 30˚C, and that in her mind, she was preparing herself for another damp squib of a summer and that it wasn’t going to get any better, a double blow. This reminded me that yesterday my younger sister had posted up yet more photos of her sunning herself in L.A. Her looking very hot in a desert in Death Valley. The pool at the house where she’s staying.
I didn’t think I cared about sunshine. I thought I loved the British weather, with its charming unpredictability. But now, after seven years of staycation holidays, standing outside at weddings with not enough clothes on, and feeling CHILLY all the time, I’ve decided that I’m with the Incas, and the sun is my God, and come next year, we are finally going to scrimp and save and get on a real life plane and go somewhere abso-bloomin-lutely BOILING.