I'm preparing for our flight to England on Saturday, clothing being number one on the list, although there is, of course, the shopping list I always get from friends and family before leaving these shores. To my utter horror I have discovered that Newcastle and its surrounding tundra will be in the low 60's for the next ten days. (I couldn't bear to look at the longer term forecast.) What the heck Tyneside? It's over 90 and swamp like here and I was looking forward to a "hot" English summer, ie. in the 70's. When I was in London in early July it was boiling. Moan, Whine. Moan.
I mean this is my summer holiday.
And all my heavy clothes are packed away under my bed. I don't even know if I can fit into my jeans. I usually have a couple of weeks' notice when the weather here starts cooling off. I'm not suddenly plunged into tight, restrictive clothing after two months of wearing shorts and t-shirts. Moan. Whine. Moan.
The Little Guy has outgrown all his long trousers (we had an hilarious trying on session last night) and I'm not going out to buy more now as they'll be too short by the time he goes back to school in September. (Trust me on this one.) I'll just have to make him wear shorts with his sweatshirts and turn a blind eye to the huge goose pimples that will cover his little legs. I may buy a few pairs in the sales when I'm over there but only if the prices don't make my eyeballs bleed. (Converting everything into dollars probably doesn't help. I spent my earlier trip saying "How Much?" every ten seconds.)
Still moaning and whining.
It's not that I don't want to come to England. I do. I come every year, rain or shine. Sometimes however, it would be nice to know that the weather would be fine instead of having to pack for four potential seasons.
So I'm asking everyone over the Pond to think warm, sunny thoughts for the little island over the next few weeks. And I promise I won't moan about anything else. Except perhaps the prices.