Last weekend saw record temperatures hit London and while I took advantage by chilling in a park for 6 hours (in the shade of course), I was a little bit anxious. I hadn’t felt that kind of heat since holidaying in Spain! It’s all good catching those kind of rays abroad, but at home? I’ll take the 20 degrees celcius with clear skies and a light north-west wind, thank you very much. Here’s why:
1) British Heat is NOT real. Seriously folks – this is not a tropical island and why people are happy to bask in global warming (without sunscreen too, tut tut) is beyond me. I used to do it and after getting my 3rd skin tag removed, I don’t play with British sun like that again.
2) I rather go abroad for sun. Very much linked into point one – and it’s always an excuse to get away!
3) The tube aka the sweatbox aka the Lazy Pedestrian. It can get ridiculously hot below when it’s hot above and I don’t know if you’ve come face to face with a sweat patch at rush hour, but if you can imagine a baby wipe after it’s been used and smeared across your face (minus the faeces) then you’ll get my drift. Disgusting mate.
4) Heat stroke. This is all too real and I think I understand the consequences of severely hot weather from growing up in Texas. Well, I know of at least 2 people that fell foul of this over the weekend, and it is NOT COOL.
5) Cellulite offends me. I know I have it, but I cover that right up in the public domain. But for some reason, once a little sun graces the UK, certain ladies forget that they a) don’t REALLY need to show that much flesh b) Must be Brazillian to show that much flesh – and most importantly, be in Brazil.