Summer is over.
There’s not a cloud in the sky. It’s quite warm. But summer is over.
Even though summer has gone, this is my favourite time of year. Winter’s coming, but it’s not here yet. It’s like that last five minutes you steal in bed before you finally face reality and get up.
Soon it will be dark before we leave work of an evening. It will be cold. We’ll get the flu and spend a fortune at the chemist. We’ll yearn for next summer, wishing our lives away.
But not yet.
We greedily devour autumnal days because soon enough there’ll be no more BBQs. No more salads. No more sitting on the beach and eating sandy fish and chips. No more sunburnt noses. When winter comes, there’ll be no more sipping of champagne in the warm evening glow while the sun lazily sinks.
But winter’s not so bad. There’ll be roasts and soups, stews and breads, curries and casseroles. There’ll be snuggly Sunday sleep-ins, delaying placing that first foot on the cold cold floor. There’ll be open fires and snow on the mountain. And there’ll be the best excuse in the world for drinking red wine.
Bring it on I say!