The rain is that little bit warmer and I’m down to just five layers of clothing. You know what this means!!!
Summer is officially here. If you’re a bee, wasp, fly or any other winged insect, then you’ll have probably flown through our house recently. Sorry about the state of the place. It’ll be a lot tidier when you reappear stumbling across the carpet in autumn moaning that it’s too cold to fly.
It’s also a time for us cavemen to make fire in a rusted out barbeque and give everyone food poisoning. Thanks to some industrial sized tree pruning I now have an inexhaustible supply of fuel. So much in fact that I’ve had to purchase a hatchet. Surely, it’s one of the all time man-tools of all time? It comes with a lifetime guarantee on all ‘chopper’ jokes. The leather sheath just adds to the man-ness of it all. It has a flat end for battering stuff and a nail puller, but I’m not sure what that bit does.
My little chiminea is now constantly primed and ready to go at the drop of a swan vesta. How can a mini-axe bring so much pleasure? Who cares! Now stand back while I try to cleft this wood and keep my digit count in multiples of five.
Ladies, there’s no point in you trying to rationalise our love of fire. After all we don’t rationalise why you need quite so many shoes, or your love of Glee. Gawd don’t even get me started on Glee. I’ve had to recalibrate the shite-o-meter for that one.
The all time man tool of all time full stop is the knife. Alas though, we’re not allowed a proper one in the house because you girlies will use it as a screwdriver and end up with a free trip to A&E. The sharpest blades in the house are on your Venus razors and you can’t whittle with one of them….I’ve tried. I ended up with a very smooth lollypop stick and not the vicious pointy sabre tooth scarer I was trying to craft.
Summer is short in the UK. Normally it’s two weeks in May and then about five good days spread across the rest of the year. The exception is the south coast, which enjoys endless summer suns. The old and people with a metabolism the speed of a glacier love it down there. However, the prevailing southwesterly wind has meant there is a constant smell of old wee wee and Werthers Originals around Dover. I’d love to blame the French I really would but this one is our fault.The rest of the country enjoys almost continual assorted shades of grey. It’s not always been like this though. Oh know! only a few thousand years ago in Skara Brae (Orkneys), (top of Scotland), (the lumpy bit above Newcastle), (haggis munching kilt wearing wineoland), (yes there), the sea was full of fish that today are only found in much warmer tropical waters. Nowadays those fish have long since vanished, probably down the gullet of the nearest penguin. Go back in time a bit further and you’ll find Birmingham under a mile of ice. Happy days. The UK is obsessed with the weather because we get so flipping much of it. In the two minutes it’s taken to construct this drivel it has rained, blown a gale, been nice and sunny and finally settled on rain again. Last week it was hotter than Miami. Today it’s colder than a vengeful polar bear drowning some kittens for fun. I don’t know whether to wear shorts or skis. I’d cover my arse and wear both but the colours would clash horribly. Maybe if I had a different pair of shoes to match every single item of clothing I own and then sub-divided them into say ‘winter’ and ‘summer’ outfits I wouldn’t be in this mess…..? It would take an organisational genius and a mammoth wardrobe space to figure that one out. Ladies, over to you.