You can't win them all this season, but you can try.
You can't win them all this season, but you can try. AleksandarNakic

Summer happy ... and some are not

Summer! Yippee! Swimming, watermelon, picnics, hailstorms, cricket, Totem Tennis, overflowing gutters, barbecues, beach, trampoline lashed to the fence, ice cream, iced tea, emergency supply kit updated. Summer... yay?

The season of long, glittering, golden days at the beach, swimming at the pool or lazing alongside a river or creek, at weekends and sweaty work shirts, chafing thighs and BO during the working week.

We count down the days to a much-needed Christmas break, but worry about the Christmas shopping and traditional family reunion/all-in brawl on Christmas Day.

We sink to our knees and thank Wills Carrier (the coolest engineer of all time), for inventing the modern-day air-conditioner, but curse the sound of the electricity meter spinning off the side of the house.

I also traumatise the neighbours, dog and passing strangers while washing the car in my budgie smugglers.

We toss out old thongs and break in a new pair. Seriously, the last thing you need when walking over lava-hot bitumen is accidental contact with the ground through a hole in your pluggers.

It's when we start exercising in order to look good in our swimming togs, but quickly discover we should have started three or possibly six months ago. It is the season of Test cricket, which gives me the perfect excuse to avoid working around the house and start drinking just after breakfast.

The heat drives us outside to eat dinner and swarms of stinging insects drive us back in again and when the grass grows faster than I can mow it, the weeds turn into Triffids and the humidity turns my hair into a frizzy mop of wool.

The storms return, and we play the following happy family games during the inevitable blackouts, eg: Where the Hell are the Candles, My Kingdom for a Box of Matches and Waddayamean There's No Internet?