(well as much as I ever rant)  Those who know me, know I hate summer.  As far as I am concerned, northern Scotland is my ideal climate: never above seventy and usually dark with a constant wind.*

This summer has been especially un-endearing, what with the heatwave and the lovely combination of drought and high humidity (how, the H— does it manage that?).  Needless to say the tomatoes and peaches, both of which had such glorious promise, have succeeded in rotting on the vine/tree…while green.   So much for canning tomatoes, which I was rather counting on doing.  Gah. 

Then there is the house….waterfalls of condensation on the windows and everything that might conceivably have to do with plumbing has a certain morbid entertainment level.  But I could do without the humour.  And the spiders…usually I get rid of the cobwebs but don’t enthusiastically chase the spiders when I clean…not this year.*

 

*I’ll spare you the physical details, suffice it that those thousands of British colonials who died lingering deaths from complications of skin ailments in the tropics or quick deaths of heatstroke? I’d be one.

*I’m neither the world’s worst nor best housekeeper.