As I sit here in the “Sala VIP” (big words, which Palma airport is doing its best to misrepresent) I’m bracing myself for a return to London and its very un-Summery weather.
While Mallorca hasn’t been weather paradise, it has at least been consistently warm for the last week. I’ve realised what a luxury it is to wake up to sunshine every morning. And how I need a lot less caffeine to get me going if my first cup of coffee is taken while I can feel sunshine on my face.
Basically, what I’m saying is that I wish I lived somewhere with better weather. And by better, I mean warmer and sunnier, on a more predictable basis.
London is fantastic for a whole host of reasons, but its weather – to nobody’s surprise – is not one of them. It has culture and history galore, but when you’re faced with floods and storms in May, then I have to protest.
Or at least raise a disapproving eyebrow in the weather’s general direction.
I’m not going to move, obviously. But I’m going to make sure I don’t rely on Met Office “forecasts” when planning holidays and ensure I spend a lot more time looking up at warm blue skies.
It’s good for the soul and has lowered my blood pressure palpably.
And turned my baldy head all kinds of brown.