Cup of tea.

It wouldn't be everyone's preference, I know, but--aside from the downpours that hit us a couple of times a day, often without even so much warning as a clouded-over sky--I am a fan of summer weather in this part of England.  It's too cool, most of the time, for short sleeves and bare legs; it's in the 50s, sometimes the low 50s, when I get up and go to bed, and even in the middle of the day it might be only 60 or 65.  But in the evening sun, when the thermometer kisses 70, it's warm enough to make you tip your head back and close your eyes. 

And it turns out that I came back from Devon with a tan--just enough pinky brown on my nose and cheeks and upper arms that my mother would have said, "You got some sun."  Indeed I did.