Shakespeare’s Globe: ’Lemonade’-A Midsummer Reflection

Hey world!

Two weeks ago, on a sweltering 33 degree celcius day in London, I had the amazing opportunity to go to William Shakespare’s Globe Theatre and see Hamlet!
I had always wanted to go there, ever since I was little. As a big Shakespeare fan, both in reading and physically acting out his work for my LAMDA exams, it was a huge moment for me to finally stand facing one of the most gorgeous stages I have ever seen.

The theatre is absolutely magnificent, despite it having no roof. Thankfully, I did have a seat which did provide a bit of shade as there was a balcony above me. The performance was just under three hours, so as it went on the sun gradually slid onto me. Luckily I did have a hat and suncream but that didn’t stop me from frying in the heat combined with the sunlight. The play was absolutely incredible, and the performance took my breath away. I went to this performance with my parents and my sister, and at one point it got so unbearably hot my Mum had to go out and make some emergency purchases of ice cold lemonade and ice cream. It was definitely a life saver.

Don’t worry, this post is not entirely about random summer refreshments, I do have a point.

Where I live, the weather is dominated by a weak drizzle that is a poor excuse for rain, and is perpetual, especially during the summer months. This year, however, has been different. The sun has obviously gotten just as fed up with the drizzle and leaden skies as we have been, and decided to show her face for more than five minutes. As a result of the good weather, everything has exploded outside. If you have read my previous posts you will have noticed that I am a big fan of using nature as inspiration for my poetry.

I haven’t had lemonade in several years, so when I tried it again it brought back all sorts of summer related memories. It was this extraordinary experience of the heat and the refreshing lemonade that inspired me to write a poem: ‘Lemonade’- A Midsummer Reflection.

Enjoying slowly cooking away in the sunlight,
The suncream sizzling on my skin like fat on meat.
Two months now, the sun has shown her brilliant face,
gazing shamelessly down at the people on this green, ambiguous earth.
Gulping the fabulously cold lemonade that burns on it’s way down in a bittersweet reminder of summers past.
The gods may drink their divine nectar, but I do not think it is even remotely like the iced liquid sunlight I am swallowing now.

The dandelions bow in the breeze, paying homage to the means by which
they came to stand where they are.
The rhubarb has grown into a monster that threatens the fence posts,
while the elegant sweet pea curls her green fingers around the necks of her neighbours.
Rapidly ripening apples weigh down the boughs as they strain over the fence to gossip with the nettles.
I stand with my bare feet on the warm grass, allowing my body to be melted into liquid butter,
gold and warm and glorious.

A flitting shadow distracts me from my meditation, a fleeting,
fluttering thing with wings.
A snowy butterfly darts through the cow parsley
fitting in so perfectly, one would think it was a petal.
She thrusts her little head into the nectar brimming depths, and gulps down the golden goodness.
Summer’s blood is in my veins, and I have freckles to prove it.
Winter feels very far away.

I think summer is an idle time of discovery, an opportunity to discover both oursleves and others. I think that the hot weather makes us all a little more human. Without the cold months, people come out of their shells to dip their feet in pools and feel the sun on their faces. People sleep more, read more, smile more and think more. The bud of spontaneity rises from the rocky soils of routine, and blooms. People learn to love in summer, perhaps for the first time, or perhaps reminding themselves of how. It is an ideal environment for growth.

I’m going to finish with a summer poem from the master:

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Enmbrace these summer days, world.

–A. Heezen