Since May, I’ve been moaning that we’ve not had a decent day’s weather and that I don’t think we’re going to get a summer this year.
Summer is here. It started at the same time that I set off for the campsite hell-hole I’m currently at.
Since Sunday, the heat and sun have been relentless. I have sunburn on my arms, my neck and ON MY FEET. Seriously, the tops of my feet are burned apart from the white strap marks of skin protected by my flip flops. Usually, I’d wear trainers no matter what the weather because they’re sensible and comfortable- I just figured that I’d get into the holiday spirit. I’m even wearing my summer hat, because I know that none of the other residents will ever see me again.
I had a shower this morning. There’s no temperature control so the only setting is “fucking hot”. It’s not even really a shower; more like a dribble.
Trying to shower under a scorching hot dribble, which feels like a scouring pad on my arms, neck and feet, is pretty tricky. I was constantly skipping from foot-to-foot and making all of the associated comedy noises. You know; the “ooh”, “eech” and “ooch” noises used to ensure that those around you have no doubt that you’re experiencing discomfort. Or think that you’re masturbating but make bizarre noises doing so. You never know.
Anyway, like millions of us English people who complain that our summers are non-existent, I’m now complaining because it’s too hot. I can’t get comfortable and I can’t relax because every time I find some shade, the bastard sun has to move and steal it from me.
Let’s be honest, most of us are secret Victor Meldrews and the rest of the world laugh at the tiny little group of islands known as the United Kingdom because we can’t cope with the snow and we can’t cope with the sun either.
Personally, I much prefer cold weather and snow because it’s easier to make yourself warm than it is to cool yourself down. Sorry, but if I could swap this gorgeous weather for great, big, thick snowdrifts, I would. It’s far too hot.