Nigel Wensleydale’s Five Favourite Things About Summer

The delight of summer is nearly at an end and the dreary winter months are approaching. It’s in this bleak time that I reminisce about my favourite things about summer, when father is away and when the fireflies are popping in their jars.

1 The Smell of Roast Duck

Nothing says summer like the smell of a fattened duck roasting over a spit. I so regret it when one of father’s minions appears on his cart, but on Saturday evenings when he plucks the duck and places him on the spit I know it’s summer.

2 The Shortest of Short Pants Are Celebrated

What lad doesn’t love a pair of short pants falling above his knee? Is there anything like feeling a summer breeze flitting up your shorts and jostling your nether regions? No, dear reader, there is not.

3 The Bog Man Comes Out To Play

Who knows what it is that brings the Bog Man out of his cave, the summer wind, the warmth of the sun, or the smell of duck roasting on a spit. I don’t ask the Bog Man’s reason, I only tickle him as he requests.

4 Pears and Cheese Fall From The Sky

Who knows where the pears come from? Not I. But each morning a bushel of sliced pears and cheese drop from the sky, giving me my morning sustenance. Every time I ask mother where the pears and cheese come from she says that she doth not know, but I see a touch of mischief in her face.

5 My Father Sales The Indian Ocean Each Summer

Without fail, each summer father takes his ship across the Indian Ocean in search of adventure. Mother knows not where he goes and he doesn’t care to share. Each day without father and his paddle is more delightful than the last. Oh how I wish fall would never come. Or that father would become lost at sea.