Saturday, 26 June 2010

Summer lovin' happened so fast

It's that wonderful time of year again; the long, lazy afternoons are bathed in a soothing amber glow, gentle birdsong curls effortlessly through the air like a liberated eddy of smoke from the scorched tip of a cigar, and the warm, gentle touch of sunlight allows your inhibitions to dilute like a single droplet of sweet nectar in a chilled glass of crisp, clean water. Sorry, my mistake, this is the British summertime; a time of year when the nation's most repugnant people have the right to wear fewer clothes. And believe me, there are some fugly people about.

As a nation we're not able to cope with summer. Our lives are built around cold weather, so as soon as the rays leak through our cracked, murky skies we have to start making changes; we have to open all the windows because we don't have air conditioning; we can't step outside without applying lotions and wearing floppy hats because our pasty skin will burn; and we end up getting so hot it feels like our brains have melted, causing us to grind to a halt and just roast in our own back gardens. Summer is a season that causes nothing but disruption and change to our regular routine, yet we're wildly in love with it.

We do rain so well; you'd have thought that, by now, we'd have made it look a bit more glamorous. Besides, it's not like we're the only country to have cold weather for most of the year. I'm willing to bet that the daily weather reports in Alaska don't consist entirely of the phrase, 'for fuck's sake, it's snowing again'. If we took a more optimistic perspective towards our good, old fashioned, cold weather it might help improve our optimism in general. I'm aware that asking people to take enjoyment in wet weather might be asking too much, but if we associated it with cleansing and a new beginning, rather than misery and depression it might at least make those wet Monday mornings bearable.

Despite being baffled by our nation's strange obsession with summer there's very little I can, or want, to do about it. Okay, so fewer half-naked fatties would be nice, and less blatant negativity towards winter wouldn't go amiss, but I could live without these changes. I guess my disdain for summer is more selfish; I just want to be able to wear a t-shirt for more than an hour without black hole sized pit-stains appearing, or to get into my car without thinking that the air inside is poison gas. Do you hear that, France? You can keep your hot weather because I enjoy rain. And you can keep your moulding cheese whilst you're at it.