by Ashley Lister
As has been noted, there has been a confrontational quality
to my writing over the past few weeks. This has been noted in my angst-fuelled poetry,
it has been noted in my furious fiction and it has been evinced in the internal
memos I’ve been sending to some of the a***holes at the workplace.
I blame it on the encroaching summertime.
I do not like summertime.
Whilst many people enjoy the warm weather and extended hours
of daylight, I am not a lover of summertime. I find it is an affront to the
senses:
In the summer time, I find, there is too much bare flesh on
the promenade.
Those who know me will be aware that I’m not a prude. Truth
be told, I have a penchant for bare flesh and could look at it for hours.
However, I have little time for the pasty-coloured bare flesh that gets exposed
on the prom during a British summer. Half the time it’s like looking at a
skinned halibut in a bikini. The rest of the time it’s not quite so attractive.
I also find there is too much perspiration.
It’s been said that deodorants and common sense are never
used by those people who most badly need them. I shall say no more on the
subject except to mention that summer offends my sense of smell.
Our national anticipation of summertime is a constant
irritation. Everyone in the UK acts as though we’re going to have a California heatwave
starting in late May and continuing until early September. When the reality
kicks in, three mild days before a Bank Holiday downpour, everyone acts with aggrieved
disappointment.
Personally I think we should start investing our hopes in
one of the other seasons. The other three are more dependable because of their
consistent ability to deliver. I’m hoping for a really crappy autumn this year,
followed by a dire, miserable winter and an unsatisfying and unmemorable spring.
If we approach the seasons with this mindset, even if our hopes are dashed, we
won’t be disappointed.
7 comments:
Autumn is the new summer. There's more sun there. I can tolerate the topless flesh if it means I can get out of the house without the rain pissing on me so I have cheery blinkers on when its sunny. Anyway September is always sunny, so we should move the seasons to a little later. Just give me sun please before I go postal.
Autumn is the new summer? That's going to screw over the lyrics of so many songs :-)
Ah! A fellow grouch. No, I’m no lover of summer. Truth be told I’m not especially fond of winter either. These days though it’s hard to tell what season we’re in; all the old rules have gone out of the window. When my wife first arrived here and I talked about having four seasons in one day she looked at me a bit funny. No more though. I’m actually not sure when I started to find the heat so draining but after five minutes I’ve had all the outside I want. If any bare bodies care to pass by my window I might cast a forlorn glance but to be honest I’m at the been there, seen that and done that stage when it comes to them in fact only yesterday I passed my wife my tablet on which there was a photo of Dita von Teese and said, “It’s a sad day when faced with a pair of breasts like that you notice the belt buckle.”
Jim,
It's good to hear from you. The manufacturers of Dita von Teese's belt buckle would probably have an orgasm if they thought someone had noticed the clothes she was wearing.
Ash
I'm happy to feel free to post an 'I hate summer' comment without fearing repercussions from sun worshipers. I used to bask in the blazing Winnipeg sun, pouring baby oil mixed with iodine on my body and lounging by my girlfriend's pool all day, taking breaks to zip to 'The Dubs' (as we called A&W) back in the day. But no more.
Winnipeg winters were harsh and long. Spring was fresh, wet and lasted a decent length of time. Summer was HOT. Autumn was another lengthy process, preparing us for the coming cruelty of our 'exposed skin will freeze in 2 1/2 minutes' style winter.
In Ontario there are 2 1/2 seasons. Winter, (freezing rain, some snow) straight into blistering summer, a blaze of autumn glory followed by a wet, dank winter.
I take pity on the 9-5 working stiff and hope that they (and the farmers) will get enough hot days to make life worthwhile. Me? I drag my giant 'portable' a/c unit behind me like Pigpen and his wagon. I suffer. Sometimes I can't move, let alone write. I yearn for my new favourite season, autumn. There's just one major problem with autumn as my new fave - it heralds the beginning of the tedious trifecta known as Thanksgiving, Christmas (argh!) and Easter.
Oh my... You need to find your happy. Stop waiting for the sunshine and bask in the glow that shines from within you. Embrace your happy. It's in there :) WRITE ON!
Madeline,
I think Lindsay has already said earlier in the comments that autumn is the new summer. It's good to think that we're trend-setters and responsible for this shift in perspective.
And, whilst baby oil by the pool sounds enchanting, I have to admit I prefer the idea of a tolerable day that allows me to complete my schedule of work without discomfort.
Ash
Jo,
I don't need to find my happy. I know exactly which shelf in the liquor cabinet it's sitting on :-)
Ash
Post a Comment