I am being a moderate on a daily basis, consoling my co-workers with plainly idiotic words of wisdom about how they would not want to be in the office at 40 degrees Celsius either. AND YET – oh yes, this is about the weather, although I despise the main small-talk subject of the civilised world – I’M OFFICIALLY DEPRESSED!!! An entire month of July composed of rain, wind and 17 degrees, after a similar June with on and off a mildly sunny day, followed by a forecast of an August like last year (for the record, last August was said to have been the rainiest August since they started measuring) would get down the merriest soul. Because you only just make it through 9 (NINE!) months of soggy streets and grey everything by hanging on to the promise of a SUMMER! And we’re clearly not getting one (oh yeah, we got a taste of it for two weeks in April: reminder to self: book staycation in April next year and runaway holidays soon after). No, seriously – 17 degrees? Plus going to Barcelona for a bit of sun and being mercilessly rained upon for an entire weekend, plus going to Berlin (with the honest hope of a more continentally temperate weather) and having had to buy shoes and socks to make it through the weekend? Seriously? 10 days of actual holidays in a warm place just before you have to start a whole new year of everythingatonce cannot possibly make up for this… bleah!

PS: Mom, start making peace with the curliness of your hair before you come over. It ain’t gonna be any different than in December!


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