April.Finally, North Coast weather is beginning to match up to what it should be. As in, autumn. March has been tip-toeing along on summer's coattails, and we've been having what I deem luscious days of heat, of brilliant blue skies, and of green grass.
However, now we are experiencing far too much rain for it to be considered cosy, and the wind is also beginning to pick up, so I am clad in a dressing-gown, tiger-striped pants, my work shirt and some socks that look like cows.
Promise, I really do. My fashion sense is usually far better than this.
In terms of travel, I'm wondering how I'm going to cope being overseas. I am the sort of person who gets depressed around rain. Constant downpours get me in the mood of "I am going to sail away from Lennox Point in a dumpster and life will be bliss when I find the sun again". It's ridiculous. It's very pathetic. And, according to a psychiatrist I once saw, it's not a completely unique tendency, but it is quite odd.
When summer hits, and everyone around me is growling at the 40-degree heat, I am the one lying on the lounge grinning excitedly (although it feels like my skin will melt off, and I'll be left with the face of Two Face Harvey Dent).
|Om nom nom nom nom.|
What a smexy beast.
Shakespeare, Churchill, the Beatles, Harry Potter, David Beckham's right and left feet...
This article, however, emphatically states that England is not a country of summers, but rather a country of somewhat meek springtimes.
The Guardian declared that the UK heatwave may have caused hundreds of deaths. Experiencing temperatures of 31 degrees celsius, with a slight drop to 28 and a 20 degree night, this was leaving citizens in uproar.
Meanwhile, during Australia's 2009 heatwave, Victoria recorded the highest temperature. 48 degrees of pure heat.
Forty. Eight. Degrees.
I should also mention that Victoria is a southern state, and not in the sense of American southern. Australian southern, meaning closer to the Antarctic.
The twenty degree nights are positively balmy here. It is currently 23 degrees, and I mentioned the attire before.
Flipping freezing, is what it is.
As I eventually plan on living in England for a while (accents, accents... oh, those stunning accents), I feel it's probably necessary that I get used to the unfortunate weather patterns and also plan a wardrobe that is a bit more socially acceptable outdoors. (Admittedly, I have worn the socks outdoors, but under knobbly, knee-high pirate boots.) England cannot be experienced under an Eeyore-like cloud of depression.
|What's next on my itinerary?|
There's such a fantastic contrast there, and the sky. Oh, the sky. The sky isn't what you get over here. I can't describe it, beyond pointing at a Tiffany's box and nodding ecstatically. Here, it's a far more concentrated blue, like God emptied his paintbox on top of Australia and nodded, because it was darn excellent.
But I live in a country now where all the colours are concentrated; where outside, the green is vibrant, the sun burns a quite painful goldredorange and then neon when you shut your eyes because it's blinded you, the water, crashing and rippling in the ocean, hits you each time with tempestuous greys or triumphantly-summer blues. Sunsets are a thing to behold.
|Sydney is practically on fire.|
|Cliched perfection makes me happy.|
I know those images, and I love them.
The weather is a thing that I must get used to.
Apparently Ireland has the same paintbox effect that Australia has, however. Maybe I can just live there.