I’m not entirely sure how I feel yet about the spring/summer fiasco in the UK. There’s something about the collective obsession with the weather that’s beginning to wear me down. Every conversation, every email, every passing comment on the street seems to orbit around the same anxious question: Will the sun shine today? It’s as if the entire nation is holding its breath, waiting for a golden beam to validate their existence and take off their tops.

The phrase “I hope this email finds you well” has been unceremoniously replaced with, “I hope you’re enjoying the sunshine.” No, I am not. I am, in fact, responding to your email at 11am on a Tuesday, under fluorescent lighting.

I’ve never been one for New Year’s Eve parties or birthday bashes—those events that come with a built-in expectation to have fun within a very specific window of time. If you didn’t have fun, did you even do it right? That kind of pressure has always felt artificial to me. And now, summer is starting to feel like one long, drawn-out New Year’s Eve party—except it lasts for three months and comes with UV rays and overpriced Aperol spritz.

There’s a strange comfort in winter. Everyone slows down. The world gets quieter. People retreat into their homes and their jumpers, behind the cellulite curtain. There’s no pressure to be out and about in bikinis, no guilt for staying in. I find solace in the shared misery, in the rhythm of 8-hour sleeps, slow-cooked stews, and an endless supply of biscuits dunked in tea. It’s a season that potentially matches my energy.

Don’t get me wrong—I love the sun. I’m African, after all. Sunshine makes me happy! But this European summer urgency, this frantic need to make the most of it before it disappears again, is something I’m still adjusting to. In South Africa, we’re always summering. Even when it’s winter, it’s still kind of summer. There’s no countdown clock ticking in the background.

And yet, here I am—3am, scrolling through EasyJet package holidays. My Instagram feed is relentless , everyone I know is lounging by pools in Malaga, Majorca, Madrid, and Montenegro, sipping all-inclusive cocktails.

But I’ve been summering myself too, I cannot hide it. I’ve leaned into the mania. I’ve floated down a canal in the South of France, hiked the dramatic cliffs and hidden beaches of Cornwall, nibbled tapas and sipped prosecco in Barcelona. This weekend, I’ll be scuba diving in Malta. Poor me. Send help.

So yes, I hope you’re enjoying the sunshine. Or not. Either way, I hope you’re doing it on your own terms.

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