Part 31: The Hot Hot Sunshine

OMG – this weather!

For any readers not currently residing in the UK, or keeping abreast of our changeable climate via the internet, let me explain: since November we Brits have been experiencing icy, wintrous conditions which necessitated jumpers, scarves, gloves, coats, thermal underwear, misog faces and 24/7 central heating. Then, all of a sudden, three days ago, the sun popped his luminous great head out from behind the clouds and began pounding us with relentless, sexy heat. This turn of events has sent us collectively mental; stripping down to nothing, parading our milk-white flesh on the street, barbecuing 2-4-1 own brand burgers in our front gardens, forgetting to apply deodorant, cramming into outdoor spaces and sipping ice cold bottled beer with a slice of lime, as the rays of the mighty sunshine caress our blissed-out faces.

Basically, we’re trying to cram all outdoor, summer type activities into this one week, in case the weather turns again (which my iPhone tells me will happen next Thursday) and we have to spend the remainder of the summer keeping a stiff, British resolve and grimacing stoically through predictably unpleasant climatic conditions: shivering in linen jackets at outdoor weddings, conducting family picnics under a massive golf umbrella in the spitting rain, relocating to a static caravan due to flash flooding.

All this heat has reminded me that being single in the hot hot sun is most glorious. And not just because you can perv over all the bare naked flesh without feeling guilty. Although, now I come to think of it, that is a rather large facet of sunshine enjoyment for those of us who get tingly pleasure by looking at attractive nude things with our eyeballs.

The problem with the occasion of sunshine in a country which is more accustomed to gloom is that every person has an individual and specific hot day idyll – the template for a perfect sunshine day that they are determined to live out at all costs, should the weather gods decide that the sun will bathe the earth in a warm soupy heat on a day that coincides with no work-based responsibilities. These perfect sun-day prototypes are usually a mixture of complex conditioning factors such as gender, upbringing, nationality and personal taste. No two are exactly alike. Having a perfect sun-day with a partner is therefore totally unfeasible, as one or both of you will have to compromise and therefore spend the day harbouring a seething resentment that you are essentially wasting what might be the one and only opportunity you will ever have to live out your very own movie-style day of perfection in real-life spacetime.

I know from bitter experience that compromising on days when the hot hot sun shines is not ideal, even though it’s been a long while since I’ve had anything resembling a functional relationship. I was reminded on a family holiday last summer, when my father’s ideal sun-day – which involves the extended family playing competitive sport type water/ballgames with rules invented and changed at will by him; followed by a barbecue, beer and a game of yahtzee – was forced upon the rest of the family, who in our defence, bore the event with extreme good will. Nonetheless our umbridge at missing out on an opportunity for personal fantasy fulfilment was not completely eradicated. Leading to my Dad being thrown, fully clothed and intoxicated on red wine and happiness, into the pool by the rest of us as a punishment for being too smug after winning that game of yahtzee, and my mum getting very cross and telling everyone off in a shrill voice for being drunk and dangerous.

The main reason that the sunshine is a reason to be single then, is because being single allows you to completely indulge your own sunny day desires when the rare chance to do so befalls you (so long as you aren’t away with your family). My go-to choice for a sunshine day involves wandering an outdoor craft-market, dressed in a cotton sun-dress and low-heeled sandals, stopping for an ice cold coca-cola and a read of a good book in the local park, staring occasionally up at the clear blue sky. Unfortunately, I did not get to indulge my sun fantasy on this most hot of hot days because I got so pissed after work last night that I spent the entire day today in the flat with the curtains closed; huddled into a ball on my bathroom floor, projectile vomiting into the toilet and taking occasional breaks to read about 1960s gangsters online. My drunkenness is also the reason why there was no blog post last night, despite my determination to post one a day until I get to 50 (50 posts I mean, not age 50). Imagine how cross my boyf would’ve been, had he existed, at having to waste this precious opportunity to indulge a sunshine fantasy listening to me retching bile in the ensuite. Happily though, there is no boyf and the day was not completely wasted because I’ll now be confident should any pub quiz include a question on East End organised crime. Every cloud…

By the way: was I the only person in the world who didn’t know that Ronnie Kray was gay?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s