Summer in England is pretty fickle. It's not like summer in Scotland, when, if it happens at all, its more of a special treat – a bonus that you get if you've behaved for the rest of the year. In England, summer is expected to happen, and then it does – and then it disappears – and then it comes back again.
I read a tweet from someone in London this weekend that said something like: 'Went to buy picnic supplies, now trapped in shop by monsoon rainstorm', which is quite a good summation of the whole concept of summer in England I think.
I spent the last week in Ben's hometown, a little place on the English/Welsh border. As you would expect, the rain poured, the sun blazed, and I wandered around photographing things, as I do. Drippy roses, drying wood, damp church walls. It's almost like we get this kind of weather to make everything seem just a little bit prettier when the sun does eventually turn up.
Beautiful! I was just home and agree - the rain and the way the sun hits everything immediately after makes it all prettier!
ReplyDeleteYes, British summer is the worst - I'd rather have no summer at all than a 3-day teaser that gets my hopes up only to dash them.
ReplyDeleteHa ha. I would welcome your drippy summer for a day or two. My prairie summer is bone dry, windy, brown and crusty. We should organize a weekly swap - I'll send you three days of searing, blazing sunshine, and you can send me three days of rain.
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