An argument against Summer

So weekly, well if only it was weekly, excuse for being late is that I have been a busy busy bunny completing my second year of uni. Yuppp I'm all moved out and only one more year away from being an actual grown up and not just pretending to be one with the help of my student loan. And with the end of uni brings the beginning of summer.


Now I, unlike most, do not see summer as this glorious, uplifting, fun-filled fest of freedom. Even as a little girl I was always far more of a winter lover, though this was most likely due to a desire to be different and dislike of things that were popular amongst my peers which also lead to an irrational hate of Princess Aurora.

(ain't got no time for this chick)

This, I don't wanna say hatred, but annoyance with summer has continued into my adult life and so for this blog I will present an argument both for and against summer.


So the first reason I don't need summer in my life is that you have to go home. Don't get me wrong I love my family and my friends at home but I don't really actually like the place. When you're in uni it feels like Disney Land half the time. You go from having the best time in the most exciting city to coming back to reality with a bump. You return, as a 20 year old who's lives and breaths a cosmopolitan lifestyle (and drink) to a little old country bumpkin patch of greenery where if you asked for a cosmopolitan they'd send you up to tesco for a copy of the magazine.

(I just find it very hard to get excited about scrumpy cider with this lot)

And it's not just the place it's the people. You have to face the locals. Any quarrels that have previously been brushed under the carpet whilst you've been at uni suddenly rear their ugly head and the politics of the town come back into play. This is especially awkward when your town is as about as large as a football pitch so you are bound to see someone you dislike about 3 times a day. You also inevitably change whilst you've been away and something you might now find hilarious just doesn't wash with the locals.


I find that everyone tends to have a 'travelling friend.' I know I do. A friend who inevitably disappears for about half the summer to see the world and you have to be satisfied with google maps. Now I don't blame my globe trotting friend in the slightest, if I had the money and wasn't quite so inadequate I think I'd hot foot it outta this town in a flash but this leaves me with an empty Filofax and finding myself on endless trips to Crealy great adventure park (it's not great) with the family to prevent myself from slitting my wrists with paper scissors out of boredom.

(feel my pain?)

Now I am a picture of anxiety. I can literally worry myself about anything. Last week I was worried that I wear my hair up too often. This is why university suits me, I can worry myself away at a piece of work and keep busy and so long as I'm crossing things off my 'to do' list, feel fine. This is why summer is not good for me. The majority of normal and sane human beings enjoy summer for the following reason; it is care free and you have nothing to do. This sends me into a blind panic. I worry about the fact I haven't got anything to worry about, I hate the fact my Filofax is empty. I spend my days panicking that I'm not volunteering my services to a local paper and the fact that sitting home watching friends is not furthering my career path. I am a freak, I understand this.


I find that summer is also the ultimate test of friendship and this can prove very depressing. You spend your whole year saying 'oh yes we definitely HAVE to meet up in the summer when we're allll free' to friends you don't get to see all that often. And then when summer finally comes and no one organises to meet up with anyone you come to the sad realisation that if you're not gonna meet up with them in the summer you're probably not going to meet up with them at all. You will never see them again, or at least not until your wedding day by which point you won't care because you'll be wearing Vera Wang and drinking Moet. 


The final reason why summer just gets up in my grill (other than the obvious sunburn etc) is just how inadequate it makes me feel. I get to summer and I realise that every item of clothing that I own is absolutely hideous and I realise that I'm not this fashion goddess I thought I was. In the winter no one realises that you dress like Kerry Katona because you buy one gorgeous coat and so long as you've got that on you could well be Caggie Dunlop (or someone you find very stylish, Carrie Bradshaw maybe?) But then summer comes and you can't wear a coat, every drop of your outfit has to be delicious because all of it is on display. This then means rather than spending my money joining my globe trotting friend on her travels I will be emptying my bank account on asos to try and look half decent next to that bitch on the beach.

(I spend my summer hoping that some how, I will end up looking like this)

The summer also means diet time so that I don't look like a pasty member of the 'Little Britain' cast on the beach. So I spend the whole summer going to BBQ's saying the compulsory line of 'yeah I always lose my appetite in the summer it's too hot to eat' which is the biggest lie, in reality I would swap my Chanel quilted handbag for hot dog sausage and twister. 


So yep. That was my argument for and against summer except there wasn't really a 'for' bit about it. I do like some bits of summer, like staying at friend's houses and maxi dresses and holidays but obviously just not as much as I dislike it. It would also have made this blog far far far too long. I hope you're all sat there feeling as depressed about your lack of uni work and flabby white arms as I am. I've got to go, I think I can hear the ice cream van...