Happy & Healthy
Shall we talk about the weather then?
Next to me is a pot of hot tea and the fireplace is on. This morning I turned on the seat heating in my car and I considered putting on socks (sókken, SOCKS) when I walked out of the house. And it is July 2nd. 2 (twéé, TWO) July. In Ibiza, it is a scorching 29 degrees and mostly sunny. In Paris, it fluctuates between 23 and 24 degrees, the thermometer on the Côte measures a stable 28 degrees. All at a good level, but here...
We have to make do with a meager 17 (zeventien, SEVENTEEN) degrees. With a little cloud and drops. We Dutch people like to complain a bit about the weather, but we don't really get sad about it. We should have been born in LA. That's our own stupid fault. We are not made of sugar and no one gets worse from a sobering rain shower on a blow-dried head every now and then.
We can all handle that. An autumn that seems to last a year, such a cowardly winter (which is actually also an extended autumn) and a humid spring we can all handle. We keep ourselves afloat by visualizing those lovely Dutch summers. They are, after all, the best in the world. Not too hot, always with a light cooling breeze, long evenings, and of course our beautiful beaches and trendy beach bars. You won't find those in LA. There, you can't even sit on a terrace with a cocktail. The idea.
”As if it isn't bad enough, the poor weather men are completely thrown off too”
But guys. It is already July 1st and it feels like (except for a few nice days in May) it has been autumn since my children had their first school day. And that was August 24th. As if it isn't bad enough, the poor weather men are completely thrown off. Either they predict nice weather and it turns out to be a depressingly gloomy day, or they say all week that the weekend will be bad, causing me to cancel my beach plans, and then suddenly the sun breaks through on Sunday afternoon. Just a little, mind you, with wind force 8, but behind a glass screen it might have been quite pleasant. And I just missed those three little rays of sun.
The only thing keeping me going is my vacation to Ibiza in mid-August. Just two weeks on an island where the temperature knows how it should be. Two weeks of sun and a sea at bath temperature. And you know what the fun part is? When I come back, autumn will almost have started again. Funny, right?
