When I started this blog, I had so much determination that this one would be better than the others. I had posts planned, it would be amusing, and it would be CONSTANT. Unfortunately for my blog, but fortunately for me (and incidentally the garden), my world has been bathed in glorious sunshine and, for the most part, heat since Saturday morning.
Call me vain, but I love being tanned. My brown hair sadly does not come with a dainty English Rose complexion. Instead, when all vestiges of tan fade, I am left with somewhat sallow skin and the feeling that I should be living somewhere far sunnier in order to look, well, healthy. So it is that when the sun comes out, I'll be out there in a bikini top and shorts, even in March, moving my sun lounger ever so often to avoid shadows and to keep in line with the sun's rays. Desperate? Me? No. Just a laughing stock within my family.
Luckily, laughing at me has benefited my parents: covered in suncream (I wear factor 50 in England; we don't really go abroad, but it is still with me in the summer. And I still go brown as a nut.) I can often, when the sun is in the right place, be found mowing the lawn, weeding, edging flowerbeds, and digging out the chicken run. Little things that the parents could do without having to tackle (please, redigging the pond and rebuilding the chainsaw are SO much more important), which keep me in the sun. Plus, I enjoy it. In my not-so-old-age I find myself becoming more domesticated. I like doing the washing up, and find some sense of pride in tidying the kitchen (not my room, though. NEVER my room). I want to make jars of jam to give to people for Christmas, and grow some herbs.
When I told my mother that I thought I was a little weird and ageing prematurely, she told me not to let something not being cool stop me from doing it. Oh mother. Things have changed. I don't actually care how something is perceived, if I want to do it I will (which in some cases does not do me any favours at all).
In a way, watching the weather forecast this evening and seeing my world come crashing down with the onset of normal March weather at the weekend, I was somewhat relieved. Essays must be written, books read, wardrobes cleared out and running recommenced. I might actually get something done for a change.
Call me vain, but I love being tanned. My brown hair sadly does not come with a dainty English Rose complexion. Instead, when all vestiges of tan fade, I am left with somewhat sallow skin and the feeling that I should be living somewhere far sunnier in order to look, well, healthy. So it is that when the sun comes out, I'll be out there in a bikini top and shorts, even in March, moving my sun lounger ever so often to avoid shadows and to keep in line with the sun's rays. Desperate? Me? No. Just a laughing stock within my family.
Luckily, laughing at me has benefited my parents: covered in suncream (I wear factor 50 in England; we don't really go abroad, but it is still with me in the summer. And I still go brown as a nut.) I can often, when the sun is in the right place, be found mowing the lawn, weeding, edging flowerbeds, and digging out the chicken run. Little things that the parents could do without having to tackle (please, redigging the pond and rebuilding the chainsaw are SO much more important), which keep me in the sun. Plus, I enjoy it. In my not-so-old-age I find myself becoming more domesticated. I like doing the washing up, and find some sense of pride in tidying the kitchen (not my room, though. NEVER my room). I want to make jars of jam to give to people for Christmas, and grow some herbs.
When I told my mother that I thought I was a little weird and ageing prematurely, she told me not to let something not being cool stop me from doing it. Oh mother. Things have changed. I don't actually care how something is perceived, if I want to do it I will (which in some cases does not do me any favours at all).
In a way, watching the weather forecast this evening and seeing my world come crashing down with the onset of normal March weather at the weekend, I was somewhat relieved. Essays must be written, books read, wardrobes cleared out and running recommenced. I might actually get something done for a change.
No comments:
Post a Comment