millionreasons | (no subject)

I hate this weather; I do, I do. Crocuses are forming, the daffodils are nearly out, it’s light at 6 o’clock: it shouldn’t be this bone-chillingly cold anymore, with worse predictions to come. Fuck it all, I’m giving up, I’m moving to Spain. I’m going to buy the Daily Mail, I’m going to start complaining about black people committing crime, I’m going to claim my cold weather payments and my British pension and manage not to pay tax in either country. I shall eschew patatas bravas for egg ‘n’ chips and find a pub that sells John Smiths. I’ll go to places that put on a decent tribute act of an evening. I’m gonna shout loudly in public and make out that things weren’t so bad when I was young and now we’re all going to hell in a handbasket and it’s all the fault of bureaucracy, the EU, Muslims and political correctness. I'm going to tell my children that I’m spending their inheritance (which is actually the inheritance that my parents saved so hard to leave).

I’ll do it all, I will - just for the sake of A LITTLE BIT OF HEAT. Until the summer comes. Over 25°C and I start to wilt.