Sun Seal and Sand

The general thought of my past week has been 'it's hot'. Not that that is all bad, 95% of the year my skin prickles on my arms and I establish that from that, it is cold. Heat is all together a good thing. People turn their heating off, saves the planet and then people will carry on using just as much water as they always have, until a hose pipe ban encourages them to take a sudden interest in washing their own cars on a regular basis. Heat brings people added sensations, closer to things, like chairs and sofas, there is nothing quite like the sensation of peeling your back of the faux leather sofa, like a waxing strip on your grandma's leg, each bring you the same feeling of revulsion. The NHS love the hot weather, it seems to kull the ageing population. This I have concluded is something to do with their strange attachment to layers of clothing, going out in 30' heat in jumpers, reversible fleeces and waterproof coats, complete with hidden hoods. Needless to say, they slow cook and flesh slides off the bone like a well cooked chicken.

I always think heat is one of those strange concepts. One which seems to flout the nature vs. nurture debate. Nurture would teach us that touching something hot is bad. Yet, when the sun comes out, people go out in hordes to greet it. Unfortunately, if television statistics are anything to go by, which as a media student, i'm tempted to doubt, we have become Stout Britain, a country full of chubby people, so when the summer past time of going down to the sea side, the image in our minds has been distorted through the hall of mirrors and now the beaches resemble a blubber beach of basking seals, large pink sweaty bodies, moving over each other, like pouring out a tin of plum tomatoes onto a chopping board. There they cook, and burn and surround themselves with bendy wind breaks, to provide privacy while they oil up with sandy extra virgin before concluding the last task to complete will be to dig a hole, before packing up and leaving.

The free tan is always attempted by some people. But if it is free, then there will be a determined Brit trying to access it. An expensive collection of green, twice used garden furniture is pulled out of the shed, a series of floral waterproofed cushions are produced harbouring mothballs and spiders, however a quick dusting with a squeamish hand produces results which thus make it acceptable. The sunniest part of the garden is chosen and the chair is set up and is quickly inhabited. The sun shines strong and hard, but after twenty minutes, no results have been found however they have discovered how boring it is to lie still, thus they jump into action and go inside collecting jugs of drink in special garden plastic vessels, a small table, a collection of magazines, purchased only for the free gift and a yellowing novel set aside for just an occasion. Back outside, with all the entertainment needed to sunbathe, they will lie back and start to read. Within moments, they realise the sun has moved so they get up and shuffle everything around further up the garden so as to be in the sun again. They set themselves up to read but then discover the paper blocks the sun. This results in moving over the chair as if it was a yoga mat, where best to read the book but still get sun. This proves difficult and the book ends up on the floor. The Brit will then sit back and decided just to sun bathe. Moments pass and they decide it is getting hot, so they flip over and sun on their backs. They doze and imagine hours have gone by. They are bored and warm and want a shower, so they move everything back inside. After the shower, they compare the underside of their forearm to the top side and conclude. Still pale.

The British summer. It's strangely hot this year. We have had it for about a week. Possibly a record. If it lasts much longer I expect we will be forced to complain about it and wish for milder times. While it lasts however, I would say 'its hot'.