It’s so dull to exclaim “I can’t believe
it’s May already!” but the fact is I can’t believe it’s May already. Mexico,
the epic January snow, the epic Easter snow, Easter – the year hasn’t been dull
and it’s about to get that much more exciting when the parentals arrive on
Saturday.
I haven’t really allowed myself to think
much about their visit, mostly because for the last month I wasn’t sure they’d
even make it, thanks to a lil’ family cancer scare that wasn’t fun for anyone. But everyone now in the cancer-clear they’re t-minus 5 days until
London and I cannot wait.
They are
going to freeze their Australian “24 degrees and we call this autumn” arses off,
mind you. But I have to confess I don’t have much sympathy because they only
have to put up with it for five days before we all head to Provence for a week.
And then Nice and then Mantava and then Venice for the biennale. It’s going to
be tough, I know. But after their five days of London sprinter (that would be
spring, dressed up as winter) and our seven eight months of this
bollocks I think we’ll all have earned a little continental respite.
I cannot say it more plainly: the weather
is not improving.
