I only realise what I miss when I get it back again.

When it was sunny, i was happy. I loved it, wearing sunglasses and pretty shoes and feeling warm all the time. I liked driving with the windows down and stopping for ice creams. I liked watching boys play football and I liked going to bed with the windows open. I didn't like the suncream and getting in the car when it had been parked in the sun, but those were small sacrifices for barbeques and beer gardens.

But then, as the days got darker and more grey and eventually when it got cold, wet and windy again, I realised that I'd missed it. I hate the way my hair frizzes though, and I hate when my feet get wet because I wore ridiculous shoes for the weather and when my jeans soak up the puddles. I hate it when the windscreen wipers only wipe the passenger side of the car and I hate when I'm totally unprepares and don't have an umbrella or a hood.

But I like the rain, I really do. And I miss it when it's gone. It's Britain though, and the rain is never far away, but I like the noise it makes on the window and I like walking in it when I don't care about getting wet. I like looking out when it's rainy and feeling pleased that I'm dry. I like the smell when it rained and the ground was hot. And like my wellies although I don't wear them unless the rain is torrential or at a festival.

It's the same with people and things, I miss my family and friends from home but I only realise how much when I actually get back home. Then I'm too busy enjoying myself there to realise how much I'm missing Uni and my friends there. So when I say I miss you, I mean it, but I'll mean it more when I see you again. I suppose I've been lucky. I think I'll count my lucky stars the next time. I won't always get another chance.