“It’s gey backendish,” said Maggie recently.
“?” I enquired.
“Very backendish: the back end of Summer.”
“Not the back end of a pantomime horse?”
“Pfft,” she replied, and wandered off.
But she was right. And everyone else knows it too. Everyone who’s local, that is.
If you walk down Castle Douglas high street at the moment, you can tell the tourists by the fact they are wearing shorts, t-shirts, flimsy cagoules, and shivering like mad; clearly wondering why it can be so cold in August.
Locals, on the other hand are all wrapped up with several layers of clothing and their winter coats. Mind you, they won’t put the heating on until November, even if it freezes.
Despite living in Scotland for 20 years now, I have never got used to the idea of the 2nd half of August being the onset of Autumn. I was brought up in milder climes, some 400 miles to the south where it is still considered the height of Summer and the next season won’t appear for many weeks to come.
But up here my Southern upbringing betrayed me this morning as I left the house wearing a coat, but no fleece underneath it; I was chilled by the time I got home.
’t will Soon be time for Bramble Crumbles.