As yet another beautiful, sun-drenched day dawns in the coastal town I call home, I feel my heart sink. Gorgeous summer weather should, on the face of it, be a source of joy. This is Great Britain after all, and a traditional British summer usually means more picnics ruined by drizzle than you can shake a damp sandwich at.
The problem is, with the sunshine comes the “shoulds”. With weather this nice, I should be organising an impromptu ultimate frisbee game or lawn croquet tournament in the park. I should be going paddleboarding. I should be barbecuing and quaffing ice-cold rosé in the garden, but I should also simultaneously be practising beach yoga, going to an al fresco Shakespeare play, doing a 10-mile hike, sea swimming and socialising with everyone I’ve ever met.
