I’ll be blunt – I really hate summer. And while it’s very British to complain about all weather (though, we seem to think it makes an excellent conversation starter), I can’t help but see summer as positing its own unique form of tyranny. Beyond the supposedly aesthetic bliss that illuminates these months, the season also brings with it some rather peculiar sights. Just this morning, I had the pleasure of meeting a group of beer-bellied middle aged men, brandishing a curious combination of tattoos consisting of bikini clad women sitting on love hearts inscribed with the word “mum”. Somehow, they didn’t find this disturbing.
Perhaps it’s a certain degree of envy. For despite my Indian heritage, I’ve never quite been able to bear continual heat. While I might avoid the bright pink scars of sunburn, the Heavenly Father did have some other tricks up his sleeve. No better a prankster than he, to put my fellow Indian brothers in the hottest place in the world, before covering them in hair. As a result, I’ve now reached a stage where even climbing to the top of library bridge results in perspiration marks so large that even York’s coveted ‘gymLADS’ would be challenged.
It’s not just the physical effects of the sun of course. Summer on campus also results in quite strange behaviour from student. Rearing its ugly head during the very peak of exam season, it’s unsurprising that otherwise rational students behave erratically. Whether deciding to skinny dip in the campus lake, or eat a piece of goose poo for £15.00 (seriously?), the few days in which the ‘British Summer’ takes place, is also the time when students also seem to lose their minds. “Oh, it’s summer, stop being so cynical!” I hear you say. Well, who asked for your opinion anyway? And that brings me onto another point – summer is also terrible because we actually HAVE to interact with people. Where in the winter months, we can venture outside in the knowledge that most people will be cooped up in their flats or houses, and where the atmosphere is so deathly that a natural equilibrium of contact and isolation can easily be set, the sudden emergence of summer completely destroys that. Now, I can’t even go and buy a pint of milk without a forced conversation with my neighbour – a lovely lady for sure, but there’s only so many conversations one can have about lizards…
So it’s puzzling how everyone seems to be telling me, “enjoy the summer!”. Rather than this idyllic paradise that they’ve no doubt lifted from the backdrop of Winnie the Pooh, the summer season rather resembles a horrific dystopia – one where the general rules of decorum and reserved decency that make society operate efficiently come to a halt. Instead, we find ourselves in an unpredictable, hipster dominated banana republic under the auspices of the sun itself. I don’t know about you all, but October can’t come soon enough.