I hate summer.

Beach balls, exotic holidays, playing outside

No routine, all extreme, it makes me feel sick.

Maybe I'm a bore. Maybe I'm a fourteen year old girl

Who's secretly eighty-one.

But I hate summer.

 

It started when the new neighbours moved in.

There was a lovely girl next door who wanted to go to the park.

Parks. Swings. Slides. I hate it. So loud, so full of tiny humans.

Did I mention I hate summer?

 

She took me to the lake and we skimmed stones.

We PLAYED A GAME where we had to get the furthest stone.

It was terrible. She didn't like the fact I had brought a book to read.

Why wouldn't I? I hate summer.

 

My mum said it was good for me to get some tan on my ghostly skin.

I said she just wanted me out the house (she agreed) and she said

I need to make friends because my sister has plenty.

But my sister likes summer, and I hate it.

 

We went to the beach down at Blackpool and she sang sea shantys

We sat in an outside cafe and a seagull stole my ice-cream.

Ice-cream is cold and gives you brain freeze. It is socially unacceptable

To eat it without summer. I hate summer.

My favourite time is after July and August

When September rolls in again, because only then

I am pleased because it is cold with tinted Autumn leaves.

I hate summer, but the house of learning is now open.