It’s 1130 and I’m forcing myself to stay out of bed (I sleep strange hours) so I can try and take a good photo of our brand spanking-new wall to send to those friends who I’ve dragged through the journey of The Wall. Poor bastards. The patches of blue in the sky are getting smaller and smaller and I don’t think the sun will make it over the surrounding mountains because we are no longer in the middle of summer.
I miss the sun.
I grew up in Darwin in the 70s and 80s where I had more bathers (swimmers/togs/cossies – insert preferred term here) than I did clothes. The weekday routine was to sleep in knickers, wake up and put school uniform on, moan about having to wear shoes and then say you’d put them on at the bus-stop but totally lie about that and then come home and change into your bathers. On the weekends you’d just skip steps 2 and 3. Going to the shopping centre involved throwing on a t-shirt because modesty and if we went into the city I went all out and put on a pair of shorts and thongs, too.
I was classy like that.
This was before the days of SPF +100 and compulsory wearing of hats – I don’t think I even owned a hat – and dire warnings of skin cancer. It was free and it was fun. You didn’t get sunburned because OW! and you cooled off under the sprinkler or, when you were old enough to ride your bike to the pool unsupervised, the pool. An outdoor pool that wasn’t shaded by a massive tent and that had grass and trees around it. And you’d spend the whole day there.
But I digress.
Not seeing the sun for weeks on end makes me sad. And grumpy. And tired. And a bloody nightmare to live with. The short winter days aren’t the only things that make my SAD flare up, it’s the constant grayness that does, too. This entire summer we probably had a total of 3 weeks of sunshine. Not heat, I must point out, except for a couple of days when it hit the mid 20s – just sunshine. And only at certain times of the day because of the mountains. Last year we managed to escape to Turkey for a whole week and it was GLORIOUS! But not this year. The joys of being completely broke.
*Aaaargh! The sun just came out so I rushed down to get the desired photos and then it was gone. Bum.*
But then this cheered me up with it’s complete lack of intelligence. Or maybe it’s learned behaviour. Then it’s just depressing because those words aren’t even close yet enough people have made that mistake that it’s been added to the list of choices.
P.S. It’s 1534 and I’m looking out of my window at the bloody neighbours across the bloody river whose properties are swathed (hang on, let me check if that’s the right word . . . . yup. It’ll do) in bloody sunshine and light whilst mine is all doom and gloom. Bastards.
At least I can see blue sky.