September the first. A Monday. I like months and years that start on a Monday, I find them curiously comforting. The first day of September and our weekend absolutely underlined that the scrag end of the scrag end of summer is upon us. Four seasons in one weekend. Always the wrong clothes and we camped out twice. Once deliberately in the van and once accidentally in our spare room.

Spare room camping was not dissimilar to staying in an airbnb. Just one that is quirkily decorated with our own ‘stuff’ and is the one room that still has a chandelier.

Spare room camping was caused by us completely forgetting to make the bed ready for colder weather and watching too much of a T.V drama. There was no inner spark that made either of us want to retrieve a quilt from the roof-space storage at 11 pm.

Our spare room sits snugly in the centre of the house. The window faces west to a different portion of the sea. Not that you can see the sea but you can hear it, and with a high tide at 11:30 we could hear waves crashing on rocks. Mini-break perfection in our own home.

Apparently more perfection is heading our way. An Indian Summer.

My Dad was always an optimistic  man but especially optimistic about Indian Summers.

I too love the idea of an Indian Summer.

It wasn’t until I looked up this definition that I realised that my whole life is now an Indian Summer. Although I challenge the word late, preferring later. I could be wrong of course. If I R.I.P tomorrow I am exceedingly late but if I have 30 or more years to go then later is certainly more correct.

Since I prefer the later approach I will make very sure to avoid the ‘ Killing Frost’ Wikipedia mentions. Surely a good enough reason to get the warmer quilt down from the roof storage.