I cried three times last week. I’m not entirely sure why. I admit that I am a little burnt out, a little over-worked, a little tired – and I’m sure that’s all part of it.
But I can’t help but feel it is the summer itself that is getting me down. In the immortal words of Lana Del Rey, it seems I have got that summertime sadness . I was promised a beautiful summer – hot, sticky, lazy warmer months packed with barbecues and beaches.
A wild, feral brat summer of parties and indulgence. But the sun has yet to stick around for more than a few days at a time, and, apparently, the hedonism of brat summer is only a mirage concealing a generation-wide existential crisis. We are living in a world where the threat of political breakdown, climate disaster and economic collapse all feel ominously imminent – so what we really need is a relaxing, tension-melting summer.
But, like most of us, I try to “make the most of it”, maxing out on plans on the rare occasion good weather does crop up, packing my calendar full of social events, staying up past my bedtime, and drinking a little too much wine . As a result, I can often feel feeling overheated and over-stretched. If I don’t, I find myself gazing out of my window feeling a looming sense of guilt that I am somehow missing out.
As it turns out, I’m not alone. The feeling of spinning out of control in the summer is something many other Brits experience, too. In fact, new research has found that while Brits long for summer,.