Well, here we are again, September. You don’t waste any time, do you? August has barely packed up her flip flops and there you are, mooching about with your darker nights, cold winds and frizzy hair.
I’ll be frank, September. You get on my wick. Here’s why.
You saunter in all coy when no one’s looking, and then take delight in screaming ‘AUTUMN’S COMING!’ at the top of your voice.
Yes, we’ve had some sunny days this year and as someone with a naturally pale blue complexion, I’m looking almost beige for once, and I’m grateful. But the thing is, September, I was just getting into the swing of summer and I was not ready for you to show up yet.
You see, two weeks ago and for the first time in about 3 months, I wangled some time for myself and chose to go clothes shopping. Do not underestimate me when I say that I have not had size-appropriate summer clothes for a VERY LONG TIME. For once, I splurged on some beautiful, flattering summer outfits and was really excited about wearing them. So, September, when you then rocked up unexpectedly last week with your rain and your pungent whiff of autumn, I was more than a little bit narked. Because you see, now, as well as still having absolutely nothing to wear, I have a further problem in the form of a large pile of redundant new clothes, cluttering up my bedroom. Yeah, nice one September.
You start the countdown to apple purgatory.
Since moving house early last year and inadvertently taking ownership of the arboreal curse that is the apple tree, your arrival now means that I will shortly be picking, peeling, slicing, chopping, grating, stewing, steaming, pureeing, boiling and eating apples for at least 4 weeks on the trot; after which time the neighbours to the left of us will drop off another MASSIVE bag full of apples from their garden, ostensibly as a friendly gesture, but actually because they cannot stand the sight of the smug pip-riddled fruit anymore either. The whole process of peeling, slicing, chopping etc. will then have to start again.
But that’s not all. A few days later, our neighbours to the right will also present us with a bag of the offending omnipresent frigging fruit. By this point I will have almost cracked, and my kitchen will begin to morph from that of a failed and frazzled member of the Women’s Institute into a DHL-style distribution centre, as I try to dispose of the surplus fruit by bagging it up and arranging for its delivery to the homes of all of the people we know (and some of the people we don’t). And I will not care if they are also in the midst of apple tree hell.
You’ll already be aware, September, that we also have a plum tree. As do our neighbours. On both sides. I think you know what I’m saying here.
You give me only 30 days to prepare for the hideous onslaught of birthdays that occur in October and November.
Admittedly, it’s not your fault that our NCT group had another 8 mums, meaning that 8 toddlers will have their birthdays in the space of two months and I will be required to find separate presents for almost all of them. Not to mention the fact that, my daughter, my sister-in-law, my three nephews, two friends and two friends’ babies also all have birthdays over that same period. That’s seventeen birthdays, September. SEVENTEEN BIRTHDAYS in less than 2 months.
Despite the level of preparation required, September, you continue to put in one day less than most of the other hardworking months, just because April, June and November say it’s ok. Your lack of commitment means I have one less day to get myself organised at this ridiculously busy time of the year. Shame on you.
You lead the march towards Christmas.
See paragraph regarding birthdays, above. You do this to me, and then there’s Christmas too? Are you having a laugh?
You remind me that I’ll soon have to find an alternative to my emergency afternoon trips to the park.
While you play outdoors with your three best friends, Cold, Misery and Drizzle, I will be increasingly stuck in the house because the prospect of going outside to end up with frizzy hair and a wet unhappy toddler does not appeal. Over the summer, I have become used to taking full advantage of emergency visits to the park when my toddler refuses to nap in the afternoons. What do you expect me to do now, September? Stay inside while my toddler and I take turns to climb the walls, pausing only to eat yet more apple/plum pie, apple/plum crumble, apple/plum cake, apple/plum sauce, or some other apple/plum-based concoction? Or perhaps stay in and make use of my toddler’s advanced tablet skills by having her help me search online for 17 individual birthday presents? And I suppose while we’re doing that, I could also have her help me list my new unworn summer wardrobe on Ebay.
I bet you’ve never even thought about it, have you, September? And you wonder why they only ranked you 9th out of 12 whole months…
September, I doubt we will ever be friends. I know you’ve got your job to do, but once it’s done, I’d appreciate it if you could just pick up your mist and brown leaves and bugger off home at your earliest convenience. Oh, and when you get there, please let October know that I’d like a quick word.