Even when the weather is glorious we still manage to whinge about it

I’m not one of those people who only resorts to talking about the weather when they have nothing else to say. I LOVE talking about the weather. In fact I could talk about it for hours! When it’s wet, which to be fair, it is most of the year, I moan about it being grey and damp, how it would send you into a depression and make you ache for sunnier climes.

When it’s cold, I complain about being frozen to the bone, about being pig sick of looking at bleak skies and frosty pavements, about being demented over the gas bill because every radiator in the house is on morning, noon and night.

I don’t however grumble about the sunshine. I am at my happiest when the sky is blue and the sun is blazing down on top of me. Ideally this scenario would include a sun lounger, with me on it, music playing softly in the background, (little bit of Phil Collins perhaps?) and a long cold drink of something

THE SUN MAKES EVERYTHING SEEM THAT LITTLE BIT EASIER AND IF IT MAKES PEOPLE SMILE MORE THEN THAT’S GOT TO BE A GOOD THING

extremely alcoholic.

But you know even if I don’t get the sun lounger and the cocktail, I’m still pretty happy with having the sun shine while I do the absolute minimum of house work or taxi children around. The sun makes everything seem that little bit easier and if it makes people smile more then that’s got to be a good thing.

All that said, we are a nation of contrary feckers and we love nothing more than a good rant so it shouldn’t be surprising that rumblings of dissatisfaction are already being heard regarding the current good spell.

‘Jaysus I’m melting!’ said the woman behind me in the butchers. ‘ This heat is killing me. We could do with a good drop of rain now just to freshen things up.’ I wanted slap her in the face with my 99! Meanwhile the fella in the bank looked like he was about to do a strip tease. ‘It’s impossible to concentrate in this heat,’ he said, opening another button on his shirt. How hard can counting money be?

The children have gone on hunger strike, saying they’re too hot to eat dinner. Funny how the heat never effects my appetite and the milk man was whinging about having to get up an hour earlier to deliver the milk because it was going off.

Meanwhile I have called a temporary halt to all things domestic until the temperature drops beneath 18 degrees. The way I’m looking at it, this could be the best summer we’ve had in donkey’s years and I intend to make the most of it.

‘But there’s nothing to eat?’ said the 12 year old.

‘I thought you weren’t hungry.’ ‘Have I any clean shirts?’ asked Himself.

‘Probably not.’

‘Are you just going to sit around in the sun all summer?’ asked the Eldest incredulously. ‘Absabloodylutely!’

See Ya in September!