Summer is like coriander, you either love or you hate it. I happen to fall in the latter category.
Growing up in New Zealand I absolutely loved summer. The dry heat, the cool water, the mild temperatures. Then I moved to Australia.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not throwing any shade at Australia. Moving here was a wonderful decision, but boy, was it a shock. Coming from a land where the median temperature is 25 degrees celcius on a good day, to a country where the minimum can easily be 30 was more than a jolt to the system. After four years, I still haven’t acclimatised. And don’t even get me started on the humidity.
I know I’m not the only one. While most Aussies I meet are counting down the days ‘til summer comes around so they can hit the beach wearing ‘thongs’ (jandals) with their ‘eskis’ (chilli bins) and their ‘swimmers’ (togs), I call upon the minority who brave this oven every year, to join me in despair at the raging temperatures and ask: Will our faces ever be sheen-free again?!