The warm, hazy evening is dawning after the heat of this afternoon. After spending two hours in a crowded hall of students writing English Literature and History exams, it’s nice to get out. It’s become a ritual to take my shoes off when I have an exam in the hall. I can’t concentrate with hot, sweaty feet.
The hype of the exam settled long ago, and I just spend the rest of the day changing my mind on whether I should sit outside in the rare heat, or in my room- nice and cool. The sun won’t let us have the privilege for much longer, it’s inevitable that the rain is going to follow soon. I mean, this is England, right?
I lay on the lush grass and look up, past the clothes hanging, slow-dancing in the subtle wind, at the brilliant blue sky. The occasional bird flies past and disrupts this beautiful, clear view. It sounds funny, but there is a summer scent. Hard to explain, but it smells… warm. It’s not just the cut grass that reminds me of summer- my hay-fever won’t tolerate much cut grass so in a way I’m risking itchy skin, sneezing and watery eyes by lying here, when the low hum of the lawnmower is heard from three gardens down.
Eventually I’m going to have to head in- not by choice, of course. But for now, I’m going to make the most of it.