This summer weather is wonderful if you don’t work 9 to 5. I’ve been waking early, but not going to sleep any earlier than usual, which has meant 4 – 6 hours sleep most nights. That’s fine, daylight is good and I like getting up early in the summer (just don’t disturb me once we are on to GMT) but the lacking sleep-hours catch up every so often. And so they did today – after I’d done all my daytime work of course (of course!). Oh it was lovely. The best part of 2 hours napping.
I didn’t go to bed. If I had, I’d still be asleep now. But a comfy armchair, feet up, book, cup of tea, bowl of cherries, home-made (though not by me) lemon cake by my side, and I was very happy. I finished the food – well, did you expect anything less – and then I was away.
Still a bit zonked when I stood up, unsteady, at 6 o’clock; but since then I’ve watered the greenhouses and the tubs, picked the vegetables (courgettes, french beans, the first green peppers, tomatoes) and cooked dinner (all of the above plus a neighbour’s – given – potatoes and some salmon) and have read the papers.
And people complain about the weather? But this is England, it could change tomorrow and each day could be the last of summer. It’s the delicious uncertainty that gives it its enjoyment. Of course the gardens/the farmers need rain. But, although my delicate skin cannot spend time in it, I love the sun. We’re all happier: more short-tempered, it’s true: but in the summer people smile more, we chat more, we enjoy life. Relax, go slower, there seem to be more hours in the day so you still have time to get everything done.
We’d be so miserable if it rained every weekend.