snoopy, raining, rain, british summer, summer blues, summer slump

The summer slump

Are you the only person in the world not on holiday right this second? Because I am too. Why do we not get together? Us, the only people not #blessed? It’s because we are suddenly prey to the soul-sucking succubus of the high-summer lull. This is not a staycation, it’s more like house arrest. Yes, we could zip round galleries. Yes, we could re-organise drawers. Of course we could get fit. If we are coupled we could have dates. If we are single we could really concentrate on having a look around at what’s out there? But we don’t. Because the summer lull just squashes us into submission.

Instagram is a bastard. Blues seas and lovely tables and those appalling leg shots with views beyond the thighs. Beach OOTDs and boats and breakfasts. ENOUGH WITH THE BREAKFASTS. But we are grown-up enough to deal with that. Naff though it is.

The real trouble lies in trying to live our lives through the summer lull. Our lives which, bathed in the glare of August stillness, seem not to work anymore. Our personalities feel a bit broken. And our careers? Heaven help anyone who works for themselves as business stalls almost entirely and bankruptcy appears to loom. Anxiety fuels sleepless nights, cuticle chewing, spot picking and bread-eating.

And it feels like a sin to wish time away. To not enjoy the journey. Because this is life, after all. August or not, this is it. So I am getting quotes for all the things that need doing (to my house, teeth, face, wardrobe) and using them as motivation to spring into September like an un-caged beast. I have lists. It really feels kind of OK, all things considered.

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