From one day to the next, temperatures swiftly sizzled to highs of 30 and all the sudden, the sky stung underneath a strong sun, those intense, ‘melt-away-your-worries’ Spanish summer rays I quite frankly, revere. And like every year, the inauguration of summer starts where it should, by the beach, at a resort of sorts called La Siesta, back at home in the south – with white curtains swaying in the breeze and a view still quiet before the tourists arrive. You already know, summer is my season – my favourite one, the one I yearn for, the one that hugs and holds all the memories I savour most…so when it finally does appear, and all the almost summer days restlessly pivot into real ones…I am euphoric. And so today, a celebration of sorts, in awe of the fact that I was in Paris last week, wrapped in scarves with puddles in my shoes…and this Thursday, I am here. It is only golden days burning into dusty sunsets from here on out. This is it now. I wasn’t patient but I did wait, and waiting stretched so long. But not anymore, no the season of my life is here again – and what a tremendous one it is going to be.