Summer lasted for most of 2018. On Saturday I noted the temperature peaking at 24.5 degrees centigrade according to the car's dashboard. I wore a dress and almost complained about the sun making my back break a thin film of perspiration despite the buffeting hurricane tail. Maybe I'm premature in packing up memories of summer in delicate tissue paper. The hard-earned days of sunshine, flowers, long hours of light, dining al fresco and opportunities to wander in the places I love the most, all paid for in those terrible weeks of pitch-black, snow, ice, storms and captivity.
Nothing takes my mind off the winter on the horizon for long, though I usually persist in trying.
In fact this October we've done incredibly well to get this far unscathed.


That rambled on a little longer than expected. What I wanted to say, in a tone of sincerity, was that summer was amazing. I'm so grateful for the time we shared. The warmth and the freedom it afforded us. How I was able to wear so many fun summer outfits without being bogged down in a rustling waterproof on top. The most memorable day of rain was the one we spent at Bressingham and the deluge prevented me from fully exploring the extensive gardens. We giggled and got pretty much soaked through, raindrops dripping off our face. It didn't detract from the day.
So here's presumably my last summery look. Here's to the summer that was.
Take care,
Sophie