Is it summer yet?

 

Or did I miss it?

As you know, this is the time of year that I usually disappear to cooler climes. But I already live in cooler climes… although you’ve be forgiven for thinking that we’re somewhere near the equator today!

Plus disappearing off anywhere at the moment is a definite no-no. We were out earlier, giving the car its weekly run-out. Great excitement – we even had to fill up with petrol!

I need to get out more…

…says pretty much everyone at the moment.

Only we can’t.

Not everyone, everywhere, at any rate.

But if we can, we can, and if we can’t, we shouldn’t, so we don’t.

Huh?

Anyway!

And while we were queueing up to pay in one shop (because what else is anyone doing at the moment?), the cashier had to call “next please” a few times, and with increasing volume before the lady in front of us realised it was her turn to approach the till (with great caution, naturally).

Her response?

“Sorry! I was miles away.”

And I had to fight so hard to stop myself from replying “That’s probably the only traveling you’ll be doing for the next couple of months…”

You see, things are different here.

I know that in England, things are starting to relax a bit and humanity is starting to creep back outdoors and spread across the map again, with human-friendly places starting to re-open and folks starting to be able to congregate in a socially responsible manner but it’s different here. No creeping. No spreading. And definitely, definitely no congregating, no matter the levels of responsibility being shown.

So this year is going to be different.

Well, that’s an understatement, isn’t it?

This year, I’m staying put. But still disappearing, if only in the metaphysical sense. Because this year, I think that the world I’ll be running away from will probably end up on my doorstep.

Hello, over-excitable tourists. Hello, free-range grocklewuffs.

It should be a good summer. Should.

Stay safe. Be kind. Have fun.

I’ll probably speak to you again before I go off-grid. It’ll no doubt take me that long to find the grid.

Summer’s here! No it isn’t… Well…

People always joke that you can tell it’s Christmas because Easter eggs are in the shop. Well, we’ve just done with Easter (there are still loads of eggs in the shop, mind you) so, one could be forgiven for thinking that it must be summer now. Is it just me that gets confused by this, or do you humans have a problem with it too?

True, it rains all the time here, so it could very well be summer and nobody has told me. But the rain slamming down on the conservatory roof feels at odds wth the flip flops and picnic paraphernalia I saw half an hour ago in the shops.

The clocks have gone back. The body clock however is having slightly more difficulty adjusting. I’d hate to wake up late one morning and realise that I’d missed summer. It is, after all, the best day of the year. Yes, I know. I don’t like sunshine. It hates me back. But a summer’s day is delightful, if confusing in the wardrobe department.

Sunhat and wellies?

Scarf and sandals?

Waders and sunglasses?

Oh, the combinations are endless.

The furball continues to take me on long walks (she’s currently mapping the local area in her little doggy brain, and enjoys knitting places together in the oddest combinations). She also continues to try to drag me into the sea after her. And all the while, she still refuses to stick her nose out of the door if it’s raining. Consequently, she’s in the conservatory, surveying her kingdom from the warm, dry safety of her sofa. And while she’s out there doing her ‘Mistress-of-all-she-surveys’ routine, it’ll hopefully give me the opportunity to squeeze in some yoga without her

a) giving me an impromptu face wash

b) mistaking my ‘downward dog’ for me wanting to play with her (that often ends up with a rope toy swung into my face)

c) showing me up with how weirdly bendy she is

Our earlier walk was, surprise surprise, on the beach, which this past week has been increasingly populated by tourists with their free-range mutts. Next week, she’s got a shock in store. I’m starting running again. And she’s coming with me.

Ah! I know what the giveaway thing is. I’ve remembered why I keep thinking summer might be on its way.

Endless holiday adverts and people bashing on about being “beach body ready”

Huh?

The beach is ten minutes down the road.

I have a body.

Boom.

Job done.

Oh! You mean the body has got to be perfect?

And by that, you mean so skinny that I could snap in half if caught in a high wind?

Well, that’s going to take a bit longer.

Because I refuse to be told what to look like.

Because even if I did, the vox populi (which thanks heavens, is not vox dei) would still find something to binch about.

Because I prefer to be strong than skinny.

And because, in order to fulfil this impossible and fake ideal, I’d probably have to give up chocolate.

And I’m no quitter.