I have just bought a new pair of jogging bottoms. They are so cosy and warm it feels like my legs are being hugged. In a good way. And now I am tucked up in my brand new bed, with a candle burning and the sky turning grey and I can't help thinking that I was really, really looking forward to this.
Funny, isn't it? How we (this might be quite specific to Brits) crave the warmth of summer all year round until suddenly August has gone on "a bit too long" and sweaty nights with the windows wide open letting all the creepy crawlies set up homes in your room is to be done with. The sooner autumn can come the better. Let the people snuggle indoors with fluffy blankets, for crying out loud!
Maybe I am speaking only for myself. I always find the transition of summer to autumn quite hard. I wish it to either be one or the other so that my goodbye to the hotter months may not be so sad or prolonged as I think of all the things I did, or didn't, do. Like summer is always a hot fling you grow fond of, always knowing it can never last, and that final transition causes a minor heartbreak. Autumn brings new smells, surroundings, cosiness, different food, fires, actually being able to cuddle in bed rather than lying as far as physically possible from your partner. Autumn is a distraction from the sad end to summer and is so full of life, albeit a life coming to its end, that the darker days don't seem quite so depressing as they might feel in February. And, as we all know, February has absolutely nothing going for it.
So finally, after months of sweating and throwing the duvet off, I am cosy and warm in my bed and it is blissful and great.
No comments:
Post a Comment