August and Dinosaurs

August and Dinosaurs I tend to have a relationship with months. I tend to personify them, and to be honest I am very close to giving them pet-names. It always seemed to me that some months are there just to make you feel bad, to torment and annoy you. Like some people. But we are talking about months. August is one of those months (just for clarification, August this year started July 24th, when the kids went off school). It doesn't matter how much I try to establish a connection, a rapport, even friendship, with it - it ends up exactly the same - with me feeling defeated, deflated and depressed. I am not really sure why that is. I used to think, when Ron was young, that it must mean I am a terrible mum for not enjoying his summer holiday, but he grew up, and became easier to entertain, and still it stays. I used to think it was because of the Israeli special heat-humidity combination, but we've moved to Gibraltar and now London, and it stays. I used to think it's because of lack of planning, or over planning, or going on holiday or not going on holiday...

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