A Letter to Summer

Dear Summer,

It is upsetting to have to put my thoughts down in words, but I haven’t see you face-to-face to talk things through. If only.

Over the years you have been a bright light in my life. How things sizzled in 76 when you were all I thought of. Did we really fry eggs on the pavement? Did railway lines really buckle? How we enjoyed drinking those reservoirs dry. Stand by those pipes boys and girls. Did Tizer really taste that good? Happy days. But now. Where has it all gone? I cannot live on memories alone. Sadly, the photographs are fading.

It breaks my heart to say that this year has been one of the dullest times I’ve ever known with you. There, I’ve said it. Where have you been? I know there’s talk of a ‘jetstream’ and other such nonsense turning your head but all I know for a fact is that you haven’t been around to warm things up. Another fact - I know you have been seen in Europe. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen the pictures. Did the Brexit vote upset you so much that you sought solace in the already overly sun-kissed coasts of Costas Brava, Dorada and Sol leaving me with a rushed trip beneath leaden skies to the other Costa for a warming latte and perk-me-up granola bar? Why devote all your energy over there when I, in fact we, need you here? So many questions and so little in the way of answers.

The frustrating, really frustrating part of our relationship is that when you do appear, things look up. But just three consecutive days in a month. Three days. That’s it - three whole days. Is that all we are worth to you and after all we’ve done. As you are well aware, one swallow doesn’t make a summer. Trust me - neither does three days. Ambassador, you do not spoil us.

I need you around more but let's be brutally honest, time is running out. Actually, I cannot live the lie any more, time has run out. The lawn is wet with my dewy tears every morning and the evening mood darkens around 8.15pm. And trust me, that mood is worsening. Soon the trees will send out their sympathy cards and will mourn your passing with their best efforts to brighten my days. But there’s only so much wood smoke, degenerated chlorophyll and Trick or Treating I can take.

I guess that now my Daz blue legs shrouded in voluminous shorts replete with razor sharp creases will not be seen. I won’t say forever because, well, here’s what I am proposing.

Let's take it easy and relaxed with you popping along in the next few weeks and see what we make of things. Just a temporary arrangement you understand. Then take a break. A full break. I guess we both need time to think things through and get over this disaster. And then let’s regroup next June and see if things have changed. What do you think? We would all be happy to see you with your hat on in the next few weeks. Hip-hip-hip-hooray. It’ll remind us of what we are missing. Or sadly, have missed.  

Sounds like a plan?

As ever, always here for you should you decide to turn up. If I’m not in, I’ll be in the shed checking the horticultural fleece, greenhouse thermometer and heater. The key is in the usual place. There’s fresh milk in the fridge. And don’t upset the dog.