For my money, summer starts during the last week of May during the Spring Bank Holiday. Everything feels like a dress rehearsal for the real thing. You’re allowed to be slightly optimistic without jinxing it.
People start leaving work early on Fridays, muttering about ‘traffic on the M25’. It becomes socially acceptable to eat lunch outside, even if you’re huddled in a coat and eating a soggy sandwich. It counts. I swear it counts.
There’s a global warming of the soul that happens around mid-June. The evenings stretch out like a lazy cat. Suddenly, 9pm feels like 6pm, and you’re confused why you’re still awake. It’s a lovely disorientation.
UK Summer 2026 Forecast: Will It Be a Sizzler or a Soaker? - YouTube
The ‘Flip-Flop Risk’ Assessment
This is a critical skill. You assess whether you can wear flip-flops without looking like a lunatic. The risk is high. One wrong step and you’re either a hero or a soggy, cold-footed fool.
Summer definitively starts when you leave the house without a jumper and don’t immediately regret it. You step outside, feel the air, and think, “Yes, this is the stuff.” It’s a rare, precious moment of meteorological perfection.
It’s also the day you first see an unattended glass of rosé sweating on a garden table. That’s not just condensation; that’s a declaration of war against the rain. It’s a tiny, alcoholic victory flag.
