Summer Breeze

All good things come to those who wait. Us Brits have been waiting for an awfully long time. And now all our summer dreams have come true in one glorious sun baked season. We’ve waited patiently for some sun, enduring several years of all the typically grey, wet and miserable weather than the gods could throw at us. Our patience has been rewarded. It’s been in the low thirties for weeks, and everyone is mighty cheerful for it. We’ve been barbecuing on the beach, sitting in the garden and basking in the smokers spot outside the office. Non smokers are missing out this week.

The British disposition is not always sunny, but I am in no doubt it is entirely measurable, with every degree increase bringing even the most stoical, dour, emotionless Brit closer to breaking into a smile. It the sun weren’t enough, then Andy Murray’s glorious triumph at Wimbledon topped things off nicely. More than seventy years we’ve waited for that.

Tonight, Chris Froome will saunter into Paris to win the Tour de France. Ok, so Sir Wiggins broke our duck in that event last year. But for Brits to win two consecutive Tours, back to back, having never won it before. Wunderbar. As I write, England are putting the old cricketing enemy, Australia, to the sword. A right sound thrashing is being administered in the Second Test. The Aussie batsmen, chasing an impossibly gargantuan score, are tumbling like proverbial dominos. Somewhere at Lords, a plus sized lady* is clearing her throat…

To top it all off, I have found a new beverage. I’m not much of a drinker of alcohol. But no one likes to be the odd one out. So how nice to find a beer I enjoy. Admittedly, at 2%, it’s a bit of a lady beer*. But it’s most refreshing. Life is sweet. Who would want to move to the chilly hills of Mexico City today?! Not I. Not today…

IMAG0491_1* A little political correctness doesn’t have to dull one’s writing. It’s good to be nice.

** Meh. Who needs political correctness.

4 thoughts on “Summer Breeze

  1. It’s been in the low thirties for weeks.

    I was ready to start packing up Salvation Army parkas for you poor souls freezing like Eskimos. Then, it occurred to me. Britain long ago went over to the dark side when it comes to thermometers. I broke out my handy Android converter. The parkas are unpacked. Speedos are on the way. As long as you promise not to wear one.

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    1. Oh no, we use both F and C on the thermometer. It’s the law.

      If I were told that a kitten would die every second that I didn’t have a pair of speedos on, my feline friends would be heading toward extinction.

      Like

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