So long summer. Seriously goodbye. I’m so over you now. It’s been a blast. Really it has. I lost my bikini bottoms in the sea, burnt my nose, ate sandy sandwiches – did all the things we Brits are meant to do during the holidays. But I’m fickle and just really into autumn now. I want to wear jumpers and eat stew and read whilst horizontal on the sofa all day without feeling bad about not being outside playing fucking Frisbee in the park.
Finally I can indulge in all these things because as of today it’s SEPTEMBER! The greatest month of them all! Okay, I may say this about all months but September does seem particularly blog-post worthy. Why you ask? Why? Compared to, say, June or May or the heady heat of August? Well, dear reader, because there is something innately hopeful about September. It’s still warm enough for skirts but a wooly jumper wouldn’t be completely out of the question either, the hedgerows are jeweled with ripe fruit so crumble is always on the cards and it is, for those still lucky enough to get six weeks off (bastards), time to go back to school.
This childhood routine seems to have stuck with me, because every year, when it gets to this time of year, I suddenly switch: whether you’re 12 or 24, September seems to be the most sensible time to start again. Summer isn’t the season for studiousness – it’s all about sun and sand and sea – and god it’s great. But now? I’m tanned and I’m tired and I’m ready for change. I’ve eaten one too many ice creams and feel the need for soup, a new pencil case and a fresh notepad: a clean slate.
I think we got New Year wrong. It should be now, after the buzz of beach life – when we’re all brimming with ideas stored up over summer and still have residual tans from our week in Turkey. The ensuing months will be darker and colder, but September is all warm light and rust coloured leaves and jacket potatoes and Bake Off being back on the telly.
After a long summer, September is the time to reset: to feel the crunch underfoot as you walk through the park, welcoming the crisp breeze as it intermingles with the warm air and the auburn leaves as they float down towards the baked earth. It’s time to give that thing you wanted to do another go, to turn to page one of your new notebook and write your name in your neatest handwriting and be filled with a sense of jubilant optimism that this year just might be your year.