The cycle of the seasons

If you live in Scandinavia, the Baltic States or other parts of Northern Europe, then Mid-Summer’s Eve is a very special day – or rather a very special evening. When I lived in Norway, people would decorate their boats with branches from birch trees, sail out to the small islands in the Oslo fjord and sit around having a drink, having a barbecue and – most important of all – having a bonfire. Of course, it is a pagan ritual, and the fire is important because it protects you against the evil spirits which are liable to creep up and surprise you on the night when the sun turns southward again. But it is also a celebration of the natural world and man’s connection with the inevitable cycle of the seasons.

In Mediterranean countries, Mid-Summer’s Eve has got muddled up with St John’s Eve – which is not the same thing. A few bonfires survive in Spain and I believe there is one in Torino, coupled with a firework display. But for the majority of Italians, Mid-Summer’s Eve is just another day. They go to work, come home, have dinner, watch television or do what ever they do on a summer’s evening and then go to bed. Which is a shame.

This Mid-Summer’s Eve, I was leaning over the balcony at home with a glass of wine in my hand just watching the world go by. The balcony looks down towards Arco della Pace and Parco Sempione. It is an area which has changed a great deal over the four years that I have lived there. There used to be just a few bars and restaurants; now there are dozens. There used to be just a few young men on motorini buzzing up and down too fast and trying to impress their girlfriends; now there are so many they sound like a swarm of demented wasps. There used to be just a few clusters of young people with their cocktails in hand standing in the street and chatting, trying to look cool and sexy. Now it is something like a football crowd.

Of course, it’s great to see young people enjoying themselves and having fun. I hope they all had a great evening. It certainly looked that way. And it sounded that way later on when they made their way – loudly – home. At the same time, leaning over my balcony and watching the courting rituals of the young Milanesi, I felt rather sorry that none of them knew that it was Mid-Summer’s Eve. I felt that they were missing out by having such an urban life, by not being able to connect to the natural rhythm of the world and celebrate that moment when the sun turns southward again.

Laurence Bristow-Smith

British Consul General