The truth is we never had a summer. But yet I still can not bare to admit it is September, having therefore lost all hope of having a summer.
To be a little bit fair, there was that one week back in June when all the overly tanned pot bellied men took their tops off and wondered around the streets of Neath, because the good lord blessed us with unusually high temperatures.
And then London last month, where we had 5 whole days of glorious sunshine, enabling me to lay around the garden in a pair of Dan's boxers and books 2 and 3 of the Stookie Satackhouse collection.
But this a summer does not make.
Alas, it feels it has come time to bid fare thee well to the glorious ball of heat. The leaves are changing, and it has become essential to throw a hoody/jacket on. Here on in I guess I have to embrace long scarves, wooly hats, tights, boots, and these beautiful arm warmers. Maybe.
Autumn makes me me want to paint, and collage, and drink fruit teas, all the while lighting scented candles early evening, and listening to Iron and Wine.