Girl Half Empty

//What an odd thing a diary is: the things you omit are more important than those you put in//
- Simone de Beauvoir
/June winner of the diary competition/

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17. //Sometimes I wish that I was the weather, you'd bring me up in conversation forever//

July 1st

I love how BAD British people are about the weather. We groan through the stilted days of winter as though our voices are letter boxes to which our frosted joints send mail. We bend around the weight of snow like plastic rulers supporting busses. Hailstones make us skitterish, like marbles on a kitchen floor. Rainclouds give us excuses to besmirch our happiness with faux-depression. In heat we wilt like the wicks of burning candles and we sit limp among our clothes while the thirty Celsius sun sheens our foreheads.

I resolved not to complain about the heatwave, given that I am prone too suffering in the cold, but soon realised that the weather is more enjoyable when you can complain about it.

 

Britain deftly embraces another stereotype.

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