When it comes to summer proper, I play Pollyanna’s “glad game” as hard as I possibly can. This is the simple and rather tiresome conceit of turning every negative into a positive: eg my shoulder hurts but the other one doesn’t, so I’m lucky.
Summer fomo is a serious thing for me. Travel lust still burns in my soul and I am consumed with envy. Summer for normal, able people, any year but especially this one, is about reward – an escape, a change of scenery. I’ve never lost the craving, the anticipation of that wall of hot exotic air hitting you when the plane doors open; that joyful chaos of loading a car with camping gear and kids, heading for some blissful secret bay