For those of you glorious people residing on ( or fairly near to) the south coast, I am sure you will have enjoyed basking in the recent 'warmth' of the spring sunshine.
I say warmth, yet being in an office all day I don't really feel it, and although it is a gigantic burning ball of gas it isn't projecting much heat. Yet.
However we have still got a psychological heat/summer thing. - A single ray of sunshine and immediately your toes start to tingle and you mass purchase sun cream in plenty of time for the scorching Indian summer we are guaranteed every year. This is only justification I can think of for the six men I saw in shorts today, two of whom had flip flops on.
I think UVB rays damage our ability to gauge the seasons.
I can perfectly understand getting those little pasty legs out and presenting our wintery withered feet to the world in early May, but March? The clocks havent even gone forward yet.
I am a summer born child. I would quite like to make the most of our limited days of sunshine. But I think donning the sunglasses rather than bermudas and flipflops is a little more acceptable at this time of year.
So with the mid morning sun beating down on my car as I drove to work (yes, I am a lucky individual who has a much later start than most, but who reaches the pub later than the rest of the world), I realised that sunshine seems to make the world look a little more peachy.
Every morning I drive past a rather large field covered in polythene tunnels. I'm assuming this is for the premature growing of tastless strawberries (June, people, June is strawberry munching time) and usually every morning it looks like an eye-sore. Dull and lifeless.
But this morning, when you remove those dull, grey clouds, this plastic field radiates sunshine. I actually had to put my sunglasses on and pull down the visor in my car. It was quite... I won't say beautiful because to be quite Frank, even with a yellow glow it is still a mass of plastic. But it was quite pleasant.
I even, and this is a significant step to make, joined the a particular car-owners club that I really don't like. The 'open window musical appreciation' society.
Yes call me a hypocrit, but this morning I wound down my windows and turned up the radio. I have no idea what the song was, but its besides the point - when the sun is out, everyone must know you are happy. Apparently.
We are British, we must relish in these sunny moments for they are few and far between.
The sunshine makes everything look nice. The trees with lots of little buds popping through, and blossom forming. Which is lovely until you are distracted by the mating rituals of the ugliest bird in Britain. The pigeon.
Now... we say mating, what we actually mean is unwanted physical contact and the noisiest display of "Ladies, come get me!" the confidence of which soon becomes desperation.
And no, I'm not a pigeon pevert, it is just hard to enjoy a weekday lay in with noisy creatures copulating in the trees outside my bedroom window.
So avoid the pigeons, and the influx of spring time seagulls who aim for newly cleaned cars (Brian included) and bask in the the warm glow. Forget the suncream and just frazzle.
Because lets face it, the summer will be over by sunday and the colour needs to last as long as possible.
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