We didn’t really have a spring this year, did we? The weather here, at least, and presumably elsewhere in the UK, has been a bit mad – miserable grey winter-type days, interspersed with hot sunny summer days.
This week we’re in a run of hot sunny summer days. And I’m melting. Tomorrow I’ll break out my new summer skirts and shoes, assuming that I can bear to put the shoes on over the blisters I rubbed wearing uncomfortable trainers earlier in the week, but even switching denim for cotton is unlikely to stop me from wanting to just lie down in the fridge.
According to the internet, and my reliable sources living out there, the USA is going to be at least this hot, if not hotter, all summer. It could reach 30 degrees celcius in August. Today it’s been about 22 and I’m feeling a bit sick. Oh dear. Wish me luck.
Incidentally, I went to buy some sun cream the other day and it was £15 a bottle. I almost passed out, and then I walked out again in the optimistic hope that it might get cheaper later in the year. Unlikely, I realise.