Wednesday, June 28, 2006
I’m convinced we make our own bad weather in this country. Every May or June, it seems, we get a week or so of dazzling perfect weather, hot as you like, blue skies, the works. Now some higher being is evidently laying this on, and wants nothing in return but for us to be happy. And for a couple of days it works, everyone wears white sundresses and drinks Pimms. But very soon, people start worrying and sweating. They get sunburnt and are kept up at night by their mosquito bites. And the next thing is, they all start saying stuff like 'I like the heat, but this is too hot' and 'it's not just hot, it's humid'. Suddenly everyone thinks they're being oppressed by the fair weather, no one can sleep, people leave sweaty hand-prints on the lift wall-panels. And the next thing, all that complaining and worrying and feverishly applying sun-lotion and whinging and fanning ourselves has built up such an oppressive atmosphere that there's inevitably a thunder-storm. For the rest of the summer we all have to be content with crappy breezy, cool, sunny intervals bollocks. It's our own fault British summertime is so crap.