We deserve this, us Londoners. We have had the Jubilee, the Olympics and now we have the trifecta, an Indian summer. I am so happy and this metrological gift has:
1) put the hand-break on my curmudgeonly side.
It may be trite but proportionally true that blue, in a sky sense, is a wonderful thing. Moody it may be and I know we can all, at times, feel blue which isn’t so good but in a sky, blue is just so much better than grey.
The skies of an Indian summer make me a nicer person. The eternal, “Mum’s in another bad mood”, refrain from my daughters can wait a little while longer and I defy anyone to argue that delaying the onset of SAD is only a GOOD THING.
2) given me a pleasurable feeling of superiority.
Whilst we, lucky enough to be here this week (and I’m told next) revel in this Indian summer, others, in the Antipodes, are trying to get their heads around spring. This ‘head around’ scenario is not made easy when rain lashed rugby posts and wind blasted kagools feature prominently on my television this morning. Why does Mr Carmichael chose to watch rugby 12,000 miles away when its sunny outside? He even has to pull the curtains so he can see the screen. But I digress.
3) provided me with the chance to be studious.
Having, in much later life, deemed academia to be another vocational path I might have enjoyed, it is always a pleasure to have an excuse to LOOK SOMETHING UP.
This is what I looked up.
In America, an Indian summer is often defined as a period of sunny, warm days that follow a deep frost. These halcyon moments occur between late September and November. Here in the UK we, obviously, relax this definition and class two consecutive and marginally sunny days at any point in September as an Indian summer. This year we would have been even more lenient with the term but we haven’t had to because this is the end of the first week of Indian summer here and my endorphins are in overdrive.
The First Nation Americans knew they were onto a good thing when the weather turned, the snow backed off and they were free to establish raiding parties confident that their tracks would not remain on the frozen ground. Could this be the derivation of the term?
John Bradbury, author of ‘Travels in the Interior of America’ captured the beauty of of this time. “The air is perfectly quiescent and all is stillness, as if Nature, after her exertions during the summer, were now at rest.”
Note to self: move ‘quiescent’ from passive to active vocabulary.
4) allowed me to play Big Business at its own game.
And not, as in so many previous Septembers, thrown credit cards at an overpriced hotel and budget airline both of which are set up to: a) understand my psyche b) study longterm weather forecasts c) sell me dreams I shouldn’t buy and d) push their prices unreasonably high.
5) given me good Karma
by channelling wonderful, powerful, enabling vibes straight at me. Just take a look at the acronym.
I.S. How positively affirmative is that?
My friend, also subjected to the Indian summer endorphin surge, has hired a camper van for next week with her husband (who she doesn’t talk to very often) and is setting out to adventure in England’s nice bits. They have never done anything like this before.