I hate the depths of winter (January and February) with a passion, but my god I am craving those lovely September days where it’s not so hot you feel sweaty by 8am, and you're able to walk around without feeling disgusting.
I want soups and stews and pies back on the menu instead of pasta and salads, I want a piping hot bowl of leek and potato soup with a crusty bit of bread, a steak and ale pie with a helping of buttery mash, a roast dinner.
I’m sick of wearing dresses and sandals, I have a Birkenstock tan line ffs. I want to get into bed and feel cosy, not just have a sheet over the top of me. I’m craving a cosy autumn afternoon, a nice walk through orange woods and coming back to a lovely bowl of stew with a helping of crusty bread, tucked under a blanket reading a book.
I’m just bloody sick of summer!