I hate summer. Period.

Although it does have some merits, like having a Sunday morning with nothing else to do but drive down to Freo.

Like cruising the cappucino strip and seeing all the nice young ladies in their short flirty summer dresses as you hear your exhaust bounce off the shopfronts and get glimpses off your freshly waxed car in the glazing.

Like cruising all the way up the coast, and stopping at the beach to smell the salt air and admire the glorious turquoise of the Indian Ocean and the deepest blue of skies..

Like catching a glimpse of the most gorgeous dark haired girl in her new designer bikini and grinning at her, in a friendly but not at all sleazy way, and having her coyly smile back.

Until her boyfriend comes into view.

He's wearing red gingham patterned speedos.

So you leave.

I hate summer