It never used to be this grim, did it? I’m sure I remember August to be a far more cheering time of year, full of long sunny days, endless hours out and about on bicycles, a homemade cheese and tomato sandwich squashed into the saddlebag along with a bag of cheese and onion crisps, a Penguin biscuit (slippery and melted) and a Tupperware beaker full of lukewarm orange squash? Even the rare rainy day was cheered by a selection of fascinating summer hols TV programmes like ‘Why Don’t You...?’, ‘White Horses’ and ‘Hong Kong Phooey.’ And ‘The Singing Ringing Tree.’ Do you remember that? What was it all about? Weirdness, that’s what, yet at the same time, strangely compelling.
Oh yes, August used to be a time of year to look forward to, full of endless days of self-made entertainment, larks and japes. August WAS summer.
I wish someone had told this August.
The last two weeks have been full of family and friend visits. And it has been lovely to see everyone after such a long absence! But oh, the grim, grim weather has not helped at all. The unsettled, unpredictable, grey, wet, cloudy, grim weather. Coupled with the rigamarole of having to book to visit anywhere, the rules, the regulations, the restrictions, the drowning in hand sanitizer, the suffocation by mask, the whole bloody mindedness and fear this year has imposed on life, well...it’s been an August tinged with wearying sadness. Even the anticipated courgette glut hasn’t materialised because of the lack of sunshine.
As you know, I’m not a spontaneous kind of person. But, I think, it is the spontaneity of occasion I have missed and that has made me feel sad. For example, I had to book a timed visit in order to take the granddaughters on a Covid-safe, socially distanced excursion to Trentham Gardens. (I have to add that I have NEVER visited the gardens once in the last 4 years and felt remotely over-crowded, but hey ho....)
So I consulted the three day weather forecast which said that Wednesday would be the driest day of the week. Ergo, I booked our timed visitor slot (don’t even get me started on THAT palaver) and we duly arrived at 10 a.m on Wednesday. At 10.05 the drizzle started, so we contravened the ‘Walk This Way Only’ signage (‘Gran, I don’t think we are supposed to be going this way...’ ‘Grans don’t follow rules. Especially ones she considers to be inane’) and rushed to the lakeside cafe, and by the time we emerged after milkshakes and cake, it was raining steadily, and thus ended the outing of the day.
Ordinarily, I’d have assessed the weather in the morning and made spontaneous plans plus picnic accordingly. No planning required, not in the Augusts of my youth.
I’m glad it is almost over. I can’t be doing with any more of this summer sadness. Bring on September. At least I can still indulge in some ‘back to school’ stationery purchases, even though they will be online.
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