I like the sun. I like to look at it from a safe distance, whilst it sends it’s fiery rays else wear. I do not, however, like to be in it all happy and smiley, only to be betrayed and melted into a blob on the floor. That’s why, when England gets heat waves, I like to remind the sun that England’s weather is why I like to live here and I don’t remember signing up for any of this “hot” rubbish.
Don’t get me wrong, it makes me very happy when it’s out and I love to look at everything bathed in it’s golden glow. I just don’t see why I should suffer the nasty side affects. I can’t stand teachers who roam the halls asking why everyone’s inside when it’s such a beautiful day, when I just want to say “because I prefer to smell nice, have skin that doesn’t resemble bacon and to keep my eyes, thank you very much.
But the worst is when it’s hot, but the sun doesn’t even bother to turn up. You look out the window, think ‘oh, it looks a bit cold and rainy’ and then you go outside and BAM! You instantly regret putting on those extra layers, the little bit of rain that is there is doing nothing and it feels like your walking in soup. You get to your destination and your drenched from head to foot -not in rain, but a far less appealing substance.
Even when camping I prefer the cooler weather, even rain. When your lying on a camp bead and you hear the patter of rain drops on the cover, snuggling up in a blanket, a hot chocolate and a good book. Yes, I like the warm that you have to work for. The warm that you only achieve when you put on fluffy socks and big jumpers. Not the kind of warm that when you enter the room everyone can smell you and it looks like you haven’t washed your hair for a week.