Summer is here - so get over it, writes Raymond Gill.

SUMMER OFFICIALLY begins in Melbourne around the time of the first sighting of a Goth in Elizabeth Street in short sleeves. It's not unlike the American custom of using a groundhog to indicate fine weather ahead but it's more unpredictable and so much more exciting. Our version of a hibernating rodent emerging from its burrow can happen in December, possibly February, or maybe March.

Whichever month, we can only determine summer is nigh when a Goth crosses Lonsdale Street holding a JB Hi-Fi bag while attempting to pull a soft pack of French cigarettes from the pocket of his black skinny jeans, if male, or from within the folds of her voluminous black Victorian skirt, if female. If the Goth successfully lights the cigarette, summer may still be some time off. Summer can only officially be declared if the match is extinguished by 43 degrees of wind suddenly whooping down Elizabeth Street from Melton with every shred of plastic bag and piece of grime and dust south of Fawkner Cemetery caught in its maelstrom.