That time of year

I'm once again realising that I have more or less no in-between clothes. I have winter clothes (dark and luscious and comforting) and summer clothes (flimsy and bright). For the weather we're having now, which veers dizzyingly between lowering rainclouds and fluffy-blue-white summery carry-on, nothing is quite right.

Mind you, I have no intention of attempting to rectify this lack: I merely offer it as an observation. Because I don't think I'm alone. As soon as September dawned, most of my acquaintance dived into the wardrobe and emerged joyously clutching the blacknesses, the woollinesses, the big boots and the polonecks. The faintest whiff of autumn and we all go, "At last! We can stop pretending we feel comfortable in shorts and bare shoulders! We get to wear our real gear again!" Irish summers always feel fake, somehow. niallm has been stomping around saying "I want it to be cold, damn it!" for weeks now - and I know how he feels.

Then, of course, the sun comes out and goes about splitting the stones, and we all sit sweating into our boots and jumpers, too hot to move, muttering darkly - and sniffling because we misjudged it the other way last week...

Women in comfortable shoes

Primarily for the attention of glitzfrau: my new Birkenstocks have arrived! Just in time for the end of the sunny weather! Hooray!

I took Glitz up on her kind offer to replace my old pair (shabby but still eminently serviceable: they'll go in the clothing bin at the recycling centre), and she posted them to me before leaving Germany. I got back from lunch and there they were, in my office pigeonhole in the hall.

My feet, clad today in my urban-witchy slightly heely lace-up boots, are already anticipating the new-Birk happy dance that will take place when I get home.

(Thick and fast, the updates are coming today. It's because I have so little to do at work, you understand.)