MIDSUMMER MADNESS

It's the same every year... midsummer's day comes along and I already feel that, with all of the rain, and all of that sitting in watching telly, I've somehow contrived to squander another one, and miss out again on pleasant evenings spent sitting around in the garden drinking crisp, cool, dry white wine, and watching the sun go down as I listen to the chatter of the birds and the buzzing of the bees.

I don't know, maybe if the garden was more enclosed, more isolated, I'd feel more like doing that, but as it is, I usually feel far too tired, or far too bereft, or far too busy doing nothing else, to to anything like that.

So instead I sit inside with a head full of wishful thinking, and another summer ticks away into oblivion and regret, and I feel as if I'm getting older and have somehow, in the process of not really living it, managed to contrive to waste my entire life.

And that lame old line about "the nights drawing in" is dusted off and put out there again for no very good reason other than the fact that I always do so, whilst I ponder upon when to drop the "soon be Christmas" bombshell for this year.