Summer is over. I’m sorry, but someone had to say it. Well, they hadn’t: the rain and the decreasing temperatures made it clear last Friday.
Looking back, it has been an unusual summer. I don’t mean I didn’t like it, but it was very different from the rest. Maybe it was the culmination of a quite foreseeable change.
The main factors of the change are:
– I have been on an important trip. Some years before I never traveled abroad, but since I entered university I’m doing it every two summers.
– I haven’t been to the swimming pool and have been only twice to the beach. When I was a kid I was in the swimming pool from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. and went to the beach four or five times during the summer. This year I swam once on the Italian coast and in Sitges one week ago, to show it to the blond French.
– I spent one day in Sant Quintí. Summer and Sant Quintí were synonyms for me before. This year I slept there just one night, also with the French guy.
– I have been in only one town festival night party. That’s half night in Talarn with the monitors and another half last Saturday, when I run into some folkloric dance meeting.
So the last ten days are the only remains of my old summers. I already said I like the modern ones — I love them, in fact —, but it would be nice to go back to the old times eventually.