Writing Prompt: The Longest Day (a couple of weeks late in posting, sorry)

This was the longest day of the year. I watched as the sun went down over the English countryside on my way home along the M23. Kent is beautiful when you pay attention. There are 45 minutes left in the day and I feel a slight pang in my heart knowing that from tomorrow, the days will grow shorter and I’ll limp along towards winter.


I’ve always loved the summer. It is a season of possibilities. From here, we see the best and worst of human nature. The long nights full of promise, the parties and the camaraderie, drunken discourse and good intentions, bikini diets, pub gardens, music from every corner, long sunsets, light on the river Thames. This is what summer means to me and although I’m happy at its arrival, I brace myself for the inevitable loss. I count the months until the autumn and I feel like I have a small precious window with which to make things happen before I bury myself in woollen jumpers and hide under my brolly.


With so little time left in the day, I wonder how to fill it. This is my response. I’m writing to tell you that my favourite time of the year is here, the season of possibilities. I, for one, will not let a single summer day go wasted. Tomorrow, I’m heading into Trafalgar Square to watch a free concert in the sun. In the evening, I plan to climb the steps of the National Gallery and watch the sunset over Westminster.


So, how will you spend your summer? How did you spend the longest day?


Writing Prompt: The Longest Day

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