Summer smells like cut grass, BBQs, lemon meringue pie and outdoor desserts like trifle and tiramisu.

Summer sounds like seagulls screeching at 5am, as I lie awake and wonder what I did to deserve the seagull mother’s meeting to be arranged directly outside my window. Summer sounds like main road traffic whizzing past as I walk in my sandals down to my summer entertainment- charity shops. Summer sounds like waves gently lapping at the imported sand, rather than crashing like the rest of the year round. Summer sounds like Spotify.

Summer looks like crowded beaches with crop tops and too short shorts. It looks like heat and sweat, and more heat, and more sweat, and grimy, grubby skin. Blisters from sandals which do nothing for feet. Summer looks like lighthouses.

Summer tastes like FAB ice lollies, 6 for £1, one to many trips to the fish and chip shop, chargrilled chicken drumsticks and overpriced fruit smoothies.

Summer feels like sand in shoes, sand in fingers, sand in bags, sand in towels, sand in flipping everything. Summer gently runs across my fingertips and I stroke the grass in the park.

Summer feels like it will never end.

By Ruthie Hulme

I have made myself this way, I have made myself out of invincible summers, slowly over time, piece by piece, act by act.

---

Josie George, Invincible