If you know me at all, or have been reading my blog for a while, you’ll know I hate summer. With a passion.
What is there to hate about what is meant to be a happy, joyous season filled with happiness and sunshine? Everything.
When it is hot, it’s unbearable. You spend half an hour outside and no matter what you wear you’ll be drenched in sweat. Spend a little longer outside and you’ll get sunburnt. So you try and stay inside, but that doesn’t help because it’s just as hot.
It’s bedtime and you want to sleep? Tough, because even during the night it’s hot and you’ll be sticky and trying to sleep becomes a nightmare.
But you live in Britain, you say, and it rains a lot there. Sure, I reply, but then you’re faced with everyone bitching about it everywhere. On TV, at home, all over the internet, etc.
But the worst part of it all? Wasps.
Unlike bees, these fuckers don’t die when they sting you; they just keep stinging. Not only do they not have the courtesy to die, they get their mates involved so it becomes a pain fest. And in the summer, they’re everywhere.
Unfortunately this year I have a girlfriend and she likes summer, so I’m expecting lots of ‘fun activities’ to do with being in the vicinity of our Sun burning wrath. But at least I don’t live in Australia.
Pray that I survive this summer?