The sun tis a wonderful thing. It’s not often I can say this, so I’m going to enjoy it: it’s actually hot in our tiny piece of England at the moment. Really hot. Today, I took my jacket off because I was too warm – its that hot.
Englanders are brought up to treat the sun as a valuable commodity. It doesn’t grace us with its presence that often – so when it does, you better make the most of it. Within several seconds of the sun emerging, the supermarkets have run out of sausages and burgers, people are downing Pimms like its going out of fashion, fat men have whipped their t-shirts off and female celebrities are using the extra few degrees as a good excuse to practically flash photographers in London parks and then complain fiercely about the invasion of their privacy.
But give it five minutes, and they will all be moaning about it being too hot. “I like it hot, but this is too hot, ya know? It’s close, that’s what it is.”
I love the sun, but, unfortunately, the sun does not love me. If I sit outside for more than 15 minutes my face turns the same colour as my hair, and my freckles start to join up. But, once it gets to the evening, you can find me outside, reading a magazine, sipping on a cheeky glass of wine and trying not to collapse with heat exhaustion because a hairy Dachshund, who is as hot as the sun, has decided that my lap is the perfect place to collapse upon.
Even Mort, who I firmly believe would happily lie on a bed of hot coals while chewing several chillies, is finding it a tad toasty. It doesn’t make him move inside, obviously, but it does mean that the blissful evening silence is punctuated by the sound of him huffing, puffing and flopping about on the decking. Every trip to the water bowl takes more effort than you would have thought possible, and every so often he throws himself inside like a walrus for a small respite.
But, until it is gone (and if experience is anything to go by, it won’t take long) I’m going to enjoy it. I have sausages in the fridge ready to be barbecued, a ready supply of tonic water and lemons for evening G&Ts, a new magazine and a bowl of ice cubes for the Dachshund. I’ve even bought the Cadbury’s Crunchie ice creams with the popping candy in them. Let the good times roll.