Apparently I read my dates wrong, and the trip to the Isle of Wight was actually in May because here we are for the Summer Solstice. Typically my least favorite day of the year is December 21 because it’s the shortest and, therefore, darkest day. But my favorite is June 21 because it’s the longest. (Unless you’re in the Southern Hemisphere, e.g. Mozambique, in which case it’s reversed.) No matter where I am on June 21, I make sure I’m outside to enjoy the daylight as long as possible. I insisted with some housemates and friends in Brighton that we make some sangria and sit on the beach that evening to watch the sunset.
So we sat, all bundled up in our sweaters, huddled together to stay warm, commenting on the fact that we were the only people on the beach apart from a lonely blue tent, watching the sky for rain. “Jen, how are we going to know when the sun sets if we can’t actually see the sun?” someone asked. When it finally started to rain, we headed home and enjoyed the rest of our sangria in a warm, dry kitchen.