Friday, 1 September 2017

Summer of '17

I slept without a fan and reached for a sheet to cover my body last night. It must mean that summer is waning and autumn is ready to be welcomed with open and loving arms. Oh boy, what a summer it was too; days and days, weeks and weeks, even months and months of boiling hot, stinking, searing, blistering heat. Goodbye summer, we have had a blast, but autumn cannot come soon enough.

The summer holidays are coming to a close. The uniforms have been bought and shoes purchased from my favourite little shoe shop in Magaluf, next to a pumping techno bar, in front of vomit and behind a beach which has seen some action. A sweet Spanish family sort us out with some sensible back-to-school shoes amongst the wild and chaotic party town. We celebrate with burgers and yellow food, watching the stags, hens and hangovers go by - warning my near-teenage daughter what not to look for in a boyfriend. I fear I may be worse than her father.

And as the temperature drops and the clouds appear we reflect on the best summer of our lives. Days and days of freedom and bare feet. Of swimming, learning to dive and countless back flips. Of insects, geckos and tortoises. Of ponies, donkeys and cantering around with wide grins. Of snorkelling, rock jumping and crusty hair. Of moonlit skies, romantic dinners and watching our favourite lizard nightly. Of late nights, early mornings and stolen siestas. Of friends so dear, giggles and hugs. Of very few tears, arguments and squabbles.

Thank you Mallorca again, you are one special place.

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