Monday, June 20 is the Summer Solstice – a day I love. I’m not about to launch into a performance of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream – we have enough drunken assess in our own E14 Wood (Wharf).
And I’m not a druid, though the boulders of Stonehenge cast reassuringly familiar tower shaped shadows.
Nor a witch, no matter what several ex work colleague’s may say. No, I love the Summer Solstice because its the longest day of the year.
The evening light is a magical thing. Contrast it to December when the day feels like it’s over after the sun sets at 4pm.
June days stretch gloriously on. It’s still light at half past nine, the hour that follows a magnificent twilight wash of blues.
London often feels like a perpetual competition of busyness. We all have so many things to do, but in June there really are more hours in the day.
This is the moment to conquer that to-do list. Go to that spin class before work, fly through your admin, dedicate an hour to water cooler gossip and stealth Facebook-ing, destroy that deadline, and still leave the office while it’s light.
Everything seems possible with the melatonin hit of awake that comes with natural sunlight. The day ain’t over till the fat lady sings outside the DLR station, and we have all the time in the world.
Who am I kidding? We’re going to spend our bonus hours with friends, lovers, and booze.
As old Will said: “I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”
Well, you can totes see the river.
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