I suppose summer only really begins for me when I have gone for a swim in the sea. Spring with its lovely warmth and increasingly active life is transformed into summer, and life somehow slows down a bit. Too warm to walk quickly; now we saunter. Clothes, hairdo, make-up - none of it matters much when the skin begins to tan and the sun forces us to be outside, to enjoy and to take every opportunity to cool off by hiding under water.
What though the hair be a mess? Great are the rewards of swimming in salt water, for body and soul alike. Besides, on the beach everybody has a little sand in their ears. And there is no better make-up than a happy summer smile.
In the world of me, then, now it is summer proper. I have taken the plunge and it was so nice that I contemplated giving up this earthly life and become a mermaid. As is the case with most Swedes I love the Swedish summer more than any other, at least when it is as we want it to be: sunshine, a little breeze and blue skies over the blue sea. If I were a poet I would write a poem about the pangs of happiness a summer day inflicts on me. And the pangs about leaving it soon...
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