British summertime - a rant
Last Tuesday was the first day of summer, did you know that? And very summery I was too, sitting on the top of Richmond Hill with someone rather nice, sipping (glugging?) Pimms and admiring the view.
It really was rather lovely - dappled sunlight, a gentle breeze, a reasonable temperature. It's just a crying shame that every other second of this summer has been HELLISH TORMENT. As I trudged to work but a couple of weeks ago, buttoned up to the nose, shivering beneath several substantial layers and contemplating emigration as icy flecks of rain spattered on my alabaster-white skin, I thought I would simply die if the sun didn't put in an appearance soon.
Bah. Careful what you wish for, I say, or the next thing you know, you'll be swooning in a massive fan-assisted oven called London, fighting for another polluted breath as you struggle over griddle-hot paving slabs, lifeless puffs of warm wind bringing the only thing close to a second's relief. Hah, summer indeed. This is not summer, this is hell on earth. I do not want to sweat helplessly into a scratchy velour tube seat where a million other London legs have sweated before me. I have no desire to limp painfully as humid weather between my leather shoe and my foot pulls the skin away from my feet. I never stated that I harboured a wish to feel 'clammy'. When did I ever suggest a Hobson's choice of (a) lying on the bed, gasping like a fish out of water, smothered by a blanked of hot air, or (b) opening all the windows to let in the sound of every delivery truck, train, rubbish collection, shouting drunk and shagging fox? And I'm convinced I never brought up torrential downpours, infected mosquito bites, hayfever, sunburn, or summer colds.
No no no no, this is NOT what I wished for.
What I wanted, just in case I didn't make it clear, was long summer afternoons with friends in beer gardens, barbecues, floaty dresses, endless jugs of Pimms, trips to the coast, shivering a little and having to put on a very thin cardie at 9pm, a golden tan, the sounds of tennis on the telly (as long as I don't have to watch it), air conditioned offices and cars that give way to a pleasantly warm outdoors, holidays, quiet streets, butterflies.
I want to be this kid:
It really was rather lovely - dappled sunlight, a gentle breeze, a reasonable temperature. It's just a crying shame that every other second of this summer has been HELLISH TORMENT. As I trudged to work but a couple of weeks ago, buttoned up to the nose, shivering beneath several substantial layers and contemplating emigration as icy flecks of rain spattered on my alabaster-white skin, I thought I would simply die if the sun didn't put in an appearance soon.
Bah. Careful what you wish for, I say, or the next thing you know, you'll be swooning in a massive fan-assisted oven called London, fighting for another polluted breath as you struggle over griddle-hot paving slabs, lifeless puffs of warm wind bringing the only thing close to a second's relief. Hah, summer indeed. This is not summer, this is hell on earth. I do not want to sweat helplessly into a scratchy velour tube seat where a million other London legs have sweated before me. I have no desire to limp painfully as humid weather between my leather shoe and my foot pulls the skin away from my feet. I never stated that I harboured a wish to feel 'clammy'. When did I ever suggest a Hobson's choice of (a) lying on the bed, gasping like a fish out of water, smothered by a blanked of hot air, or (b) opening all the windows to let in the sound of every delivery truck, train, rubbish collection, shouting drunk and shagging fox? And I'm convinced I never brought up torrential downpours, infected mosquito bites, hayfever, sunburn, or summer colds.
No no no no, this is NOT what I wished for.
What I wanted, just in case I didn't make it clear, was long summer afternoons with friends in beer gardens, barbecues, floaty dresses, endless jugs of Pimms, trips to the coast, shivering a little and having to put on a very thin cardie at 9pm, a golden tan, the sounds of tennis on the telly (as long as I don't have to watch it), air conditioned offices and cars that give way to a pleasantly warm outdoors, holidays, quiet streets, butterflies.
I want to be this kid:
posted by Elizabeth at 6:25 PM
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