The summer is finally over. All we are left with now is the Rose of Tralee

There comes a time in August when you just know. The game is up. I mean, there might be another heatwave but it won’t be the same. The summer has lost its foothold.

The evenings have that Electric Picnic evening feel to them. You half-expect balubas teens to stumble out of the darkness in Tipp GAA jerseys, looking for Madison and Jack. Maybe they’re gone back to the tent. That was sooo going to happen. They were sexting all week.