It's muggy in London tonight. The sky is grey and low slung. It's 9pm as I write this yet it's still light outside.
I'm not used to London feeling like this. The warmth and humidity reminds me of the tropics. It makes me want to be outside by the ocean. If I was in Perth right now, I would drive myself to the seashore and lay on the sand and breathe.
Over the weekend we had fantastic weather. For the first time this year I lay down in the long grass in Richmond Park
and looked up at an all blue sky. I took off as many clothes as I could in a park without being arrested. I closed my eyes and took in the warmth of the sun. I turned my head to my husband who lay next to me:
Hey, if you close your eyes you can hear the sea. I can hear the waves lapping up against Leighton beach...
courtesy of Ben Cooke
The all seeing, all-knowing BBC weather channel has informed us citizens that we are in for a good summer. We're going to get consecutive days of sun interspersed with a few odd days of rain. Just so we don't forget that we're in England.
I hope so much that we have a good summer. Every year everyone I know hopes. Our collective hope could power Ireland.
I love that about you Brits. Despite the grey and grime and grot - you hang on and never stop hoping.