Observations of a Heatwave

Yes, it is sort of a ‘heatwave’. And yes, we are well aware of it, all thanks to the exuberance of those who ever so keen to take to social media to point out the obvious – either in the form of statements, complaints and celebrations.

Today kicked off the much anticipated British summer which will likely last the whole of four and half days and end in a climactic thunderstorm, almost certain to soak those in flimsy footwear, white clothing and drop-top cars while giving the rest of us much Schadenfreude at their ill luck while mentally berating them for their ill-advised optimism in the British summer.

However, the horrors we are likely to see over the next few days will be enough to make us repent those weeks of moaning about the soggy summer we’d had until today.

  • Blokes with their tops off – worse blokes turned a deeper shade of lobster with a beer belly the size of a 7-month baby bump with their tops off.
  • Many feet that have last been at the receiving end of a pedicure circa 1997 – as we cast of shoes in favour or sandals and flip flops. Broken nails, chipped nail varnish, dead skin on the soles… You name it, and you shall see it.

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  • Hemlines way too short and low cuts way too low– inadvertently always baring sunburnt thighs and cleavage.
  • Families in their droves flocking to the nearest supermarket as if coupled up for Noah’s Ark, kids in tow, to clean up the barbeque and booze aisles – because what is a British summer without a British barbeque?

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  • Sexy – without fail, always sexy – fine young things who may have gotten a room had it been a little cooler/wetter/greyer who have to get a room before the frolicking gets too R-rated.

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  • Unsightly tattoos in ungainly places which stay hidden from the public eye most part of the year, now proudly on show you cannot wait for the rain to come down quick enough. Imagine your aunty sporting paw prints on her boobs or your uncle with woman’s private parts staring for all to his right from the top of his saggy belly.
  • Middle-aged men, silver hair wind-swept, shades artfully balanced, chest hair sprawling out of the top of their unbuttoned baby blue shirts in drop top cars which look just about acceptable in a ‘heatwave’ – almost as acceptable as the perfect accessory, peroxide blonde haired, tanned long limbed, and half their age sitting on the passenger seat.

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  • Dining a fresco – because it is the hot, heady days of summer, anywhere under the sun is fair game, whether it is the first patch of grass to lay down your blanket or picnic on, secret gardens all across the city or outdoor urban dining. Who cares about the creepy crawlies and hayfever, right? Right, only until next day you find yourself breaking into a mad rash or sneezing up a storm.
  • School kids in the least appropriate take on school uniforms – girls’ skirts folded at the waist to pull up the hems, neon bra straps showing under white cotton, boys’ ties cast aside, blazers all balled up at the bottom of the school bag, sleeves rolled up, buttons undone – hanging out in public parks or outside corner shops.
  • Those who left the house in the morning feeling super cool and summery in their white ensembles doing the walk of shame home with sweat patches under arms, green grass stain on their backs and possibly chocolate spill down the front as they couldn’t slurp their ice cream fast enough.

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  • Pockets of people hanging outside pubs sipping on Pimm’s and white wine till the last crumbles of twilight in varying states of drunkenness – often spotted the next day sporting a hangover, a sunburn and clutching on to a box of Nurofens for dear life.

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  • More smiles, more selfies, more spur of the moment fun – because us Brits only realise, when the sun comes out, life is actually rather good fun.

So there you go, the chances are you will see at least half the people on this list, if not more, some time or another, in the next four days and a half. If not, the chances are one or more of them is you, in which case perhaps it is time to cool down – literally – the heatwave hedonism, which you will eventually have to by the end of the week at the latest, wondering what Bacchanal debauchery had taken a hold of you. But humans are known for forgetting so this will happen all over again in the summer of 2017 by which point all I will have to do is copy and paste.

 

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