Summertime blues

Summer appears to have arrived, which means everyone has gone potty and I'm a grumpy cow.

The two refrains all around are:

1) isn't this FANTASTIC???
2) this will be it of course, we only ever get two weeks of summer.

The former I don't agree with, the latter irks me as it gets said on each sunny day each year, thus proving its inaccuracy simply by its frequency.

I can see how summer can be lovely when you can throw on your lightweight summer clothes and eat and play al fresco. Eating meals outside is a real pleasure, if you excuse the flies and you don't feel compelled to cook the food outside as well.

Summer is not lovely when you have nothing to wear due to inexplicably attempting to recreate the baby bump post pregnancy.

Most pertinently, summer is not pleasant in the absence of a garden. No garden to eat out in or let the children let off steam in, and the joy of summer means that should we go to the park or beach to get outdoors, everyone else is there at the same time.

So we're indoors, with the windows open in order to cope, and the resulting cacophony of stereophonic lawnmowers mingled with shrieking children renders me nearly insane.

The one saving grace is that there aren't many insects yet as it is only March.