The white-hot heat of a thousand suns


I like summer - sun, ice lollies, pub gardens, spending time outdoors, sunglasses, BBQs, cheeky public afternoon drinking in any green space you can find. Having said that, this week has been fairly horrific temperature wise. I've spent my whole week chasing the kids to put hats on them, rubbing in suncream, handing them drinks, and trying to coax them inside for a break from the sun.

Ok, it's been pretty fun, we've had the paddling pool and sprinkler set up, we've eaten outside and my lovely new neighbour invited us to join a play date that included a paddling pool with a slide, sausage sandwiches and Pimms (think I'm going to like living here!) but I do find it a bit more stressful. The kids get hot, tired and emotional. I get hot, tired and emotional (not helped by the fact that Benjamin has decided that 4.45am is the ideal time to start the day) and by bath time we're falling out! Charlotte hates having her hair washed at the best of times, but by the time we've reached the end of a sweaty day and her hair is coated in suncream, dirt and sticky with a melted rocket lolly, she's not having any of it. I point out repeatedly that her hair has been drenched for most of the day from being in and out of the paddling pool, but this logic apparently isn't acceptable!


Today already feels a lot cooler so I'm hoping for a more chilled out day, in all respects, and maybe even a bit more sleep tonight! How long is it acceptable to wait until I start complaining about our pants British summer and craving some more sun. I give it to the end of the weekend before I'm saying "well, I guess that was it for our summer then!"



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