English Weather

As most of you know, I’ve always claimed to quite like English weather.

It’s not so much that I like the weather as much as I like it being cooler. After 33 years living in Australia and dreading the extreme heat every time December rolled around it was nice to move to a climate where it only gets hot every so… well, never really.

Fast forward six and a half years until approximately five hours ago and I’ve changed my mind.

The novelty has worn off.

Today tipped me over the edge. I’ve been wearing a winter coat pretty much every day since last November and given it’s only four weeks until the longest day of the year before the darkness slowly creeps back in I’ve had jack of it. Enough is enough.

I might even move to Australia in protest.

I went to Clapham Junction this morning to have coffee with my Australian friend from way back, Sarah, (check out her blog here). I think it was walking up St Johns Hill in the late-May arctic wind with my hair flapping parallel to the road beneath me that sealed the deal. That or the cyclonic hail that hit the window sideways as we talked about how depressed our summer clothes looked hanging in our wardrobes.

Never since I’ve lived here has winter stretched so far into spring and now almost summer. It even snowed in Northern England today. Snowed. So rude.

So next week over half term, to get away from the cold because it’s marginally warmer there at the moment, we are going to the balmy shores of Scotland*.

I shit you not.

*Glasgow was warmer than London today and will be for most of the week. By 1 degree.