Usually by the time September comes around, I have put the shorts and sandals back into boxes and pulled out the jumpers and scarves. Not this year though. No, this year, towards the end of September, we had a 30 degree heatwave lasting into October. This got me thinking about personal preferences and, more specifically, why I loathe summer. By mid-September, when the weather seemed to be cooling down a bit and I was actually able to close my windows on a night, I started looking forward to the six months ahead. I think it's safe to say that the majority of people appreciate the change in seasons, and by spring I usually welcome a bit of sun to warm things up again, but the novelty of Summer wears thin extremely quickly.
I can see the positive aspects: there is the sun (which is great, to an extent); drinking outside in beer gardens; festivals and garden parties. But that's about as far as the pros stretch. Because alongside these you get heat so oppressive that you can't sleep (not to mention the sauna temperatures on the London Underground, making travelling akin to torture); swarms of insects; and huge crowds of people, everywhere! Frankly, I just don't get it. At the first sign of sun in spring, people strip naked, cover themselves in oil, and spend all day sprawled out in a field like some sort of desert lizard. Do they like cooking themselves? Or hearing their skin crackle? Where does this obsession with baking oneself stem from? Vanity? Self-harm? Thirty minutes in the summer sun is enough to scorch my deathly pale English complexion and leave my skin itching and uncomfortable, so when people talk of laying out in the baking heat in a bikini, I have to wonder why they hate their bodies so much.
We almost lucked out on it this year. Save the one day in June when the heat in London was around 33 degrees, it has been pretty mild all Summer. So when September came around, I felt a sense of relief, but also the feeling that I had been cheated. Surely that's not it? But that was pleasant, and even enjoyable. So what is going on? Summer isn't supposed to be like that... Just when I started to become accustomed to the earlier nights, and the cold mornings, the bitch came back with a record-breaking Autumn heatwave.
I tried to make the most of it, I really did. The first Saturday in October, when the temperature was still around 30, I decided to go for a pleasant walk around Hampstead Heath. There was a walk, but the pleasant part never happened. Instead of peaceful open space, there was swarms of people; naked, half-naked, drunk, smoking, generally ruining my plans (as usual). We managed to climb to the top of Parliament Hill but the views were somewhat marred by the crowds. When the sun is shining and the weather is hot, sitting in a park and enjoying a bottle of wine or a couple of beers is a lovely idea. But it's practically impossible: there is bound to be some tossers who decide to play football next to you, making that glass of wine suddenly look very precarious; or a screaming child destroying your plans to relax with a book; or just the amount of people, making Brighton Beach and Hyde Park look like battery farms. No, Summer can go fuck itself.
It's now October. The leaves have started falling from the trees, the weather is cooler, there is that smell of Autumn in the air. I have felt pretty shit recently (hence the lack of posts), but one thing that has made me feel better is the change in seasons. I somewhat idolise Winter, probably in some sort of mental protestation against Summer. But last Winter was awful. Apart from one week in November/December, it didn't snow. It just drizzled for 3 months. And the poor insulation and heating in my flat (along with the fact that I was unemployed and spent most days sat at home freezing to death), made it an overall crappy experience.
Despite this, I love Autumn and Winter. I love seeing the trees change colour and shed their leaves, I love bonfires and fireworks (even though I don't necessarily agree with the celebrations on the 5th November), the frosty mornings and the crisp winter air, wrapping up in gloves and scarves, drinking mulled wine at the markets, ice-skating, coming in out of the cold and getting warm by a fire. And not forgetting, snow. I suppose it comes down to aesthetics; everyone has their own idea of what is beautiful. Some people think fake tan is beautiful (Lord only knows why). Some people think the vibrant greens of summer are beautiful (and I don't necessarily disagree with this particular aspect). Personally, I don't think there are many things better than snow, ice, and winter landscapes. I just become 5 years old when it snows, and have this irresistible urge to go and run around in it. And on top of the aesthetic aspect, seeing the country grind to a halt, acting as though this bizarre occurrence was completely unexpected, has a comedy value all it's own. But it rarely snows, so winter can be disappointing.
I am determined to enjoy this Winter. I can't see myself suddenly enjoying all the Christmas tack, but I can make the most of the markets and the booze. I don't like being cold all the time, but I can probably afford to heat my flat this year. I am always hoping it will snow, but even when it doesn't, I still enjoy the dry, sunny, extremely cold days spent outside. Summer is overrated. You can have your wasps, your sweaty heat, your annoying crowds, and your disgusting barbeques. I'll take this over Summer any day:
