The day after the Summer Solstice
It’s early on Saturday morning. June 22nd. The day after the Summer Solstice. The longest day, making today the second longest day. I’m worried that life is simply passing me and my family by. It’s as if I’m sitting in a window seat on an express train and as I pass through stations I notice they have names I can briefly glimpse as the train whizzes past: Christmas, New Year, Easter, Summer Time, the Summer Solstice, Wimbledon, Summer Holidays, all things I allow to pass me by because they’re all things that other people do, especially holidays. There are ads on television depicting families splashing around in swimming pools and running hand-in-hand on the beach or enjoying an evening meal, but it’s not me and hasn’t been for a while. And it’s not because we can’t afford it, it’s because we’re unorganised and indecisive. We leave things to the last minute and I always hear myself saying: “Every year I say we must book it up in January, but we never do.” That’s because there’s so...