Sunny Daze

Ladies and Gentlemen, the sun is shining!

Yes, you read right: the sun is shining and it's warm out there. It's been a glorious week and the optimistic amongst us will be expecting it to continue for the next few days.

Because this is the British Isles, you have to assume that this week has in fact been, Summer. There are absolutely no guarantees that this weather will continue much past Wednesday. Therefore, you have to make the most of it. Given the vagaries of the weather here, I think that sunny days like these should be automatically turned into holidays. Everyone, should shut up shop and get out into the sunshine. Either that, or we switch to working nights. I floated the idea around work, surprisingly, it got no support from The Management. I wonder why?

Personally, I think it's the End of the World (as we know it). For years, the British weather has run on the following rules:

1. The weather is glorious for a maximum of 2 weeks in a calendar year
2. The weather is glorious from Sunday evening (preferably 7 pm) to 11 o'clock Friday morning, when it clouds over, pisses it down and the temperature drops by 10'C
3. Bank Holidays are cold, grey and damp.

You're beginning to see now, why the British are obsessed by the weather forecast. It's a prime example of the triumph of hope over experience.

I have therefore learnt to take every given opportunity to lie out in the sunshine. Friday afternoon, was the first day I have been able to lie out in any sunshine since I left Trinidad, 7 months ago. Ladies and Gentlemen, it has been 7 months since I have been able to wear just one layer of clothes and for it not to be thermal. It has been 7 months since I've been able to walk barefoot; to feel grass between my toes.

I know I'm over-using 'glorious' to describe this sensation, but it just seems to fit so well.

In order to prepare my body for the shock of feeling fresh air on bare skin, I indulged in a major pamper session last night. I shaved, exfoliated, moisturised and then applied the Dove body lotion with self-tan.

Today, the Manbabe and I went off to Waxham Beach. We'd floated the idea of going to the beach yesterday. I toyed with the idea of going to Cromer, which is a holiday town on the Norfolk Coast. The problem with that of course, is that every-bugger-else in Norfolk will also have the same idea. I've lived in two holiday towns and I've yet to get over the shudder of horror at the invasion of the masses. Before anyone thinks it, yes, I'm fully aware that these towns need the income these invasions bring. I don't have to like it.

Waxham Beach is a vast expanse of sand, rolling dunes/sea defences and the North Sea. I got moving early and drove us there before anyone else had the same idea. We stretched out on the picnic rug and gently baked for about 3 hours. Glorious. For once, the temperature on the Coast was not 5'C cooler than Norwich. The gentle breeze was enough for me not to get hot and sweaty.

My skin eats British sun for breakfast and asks for seconds. I can lie out for hours without any change in colour. I've yet to burn in this climate. I think if we had stayed longer at the beach, today might have been the exception to the rule. My shoulders have definitely picked up some colour. Though, my legs continue to be paler than Jersey Cream. Thank goodness for self-tan. I don't know why my legs never brown. In Trinidad, I used to lie half in the shadows, with my legs in the full mid-day sun and they still never went brown. Humpf.

On the off-chance that we have more than one week of this weather, I'm going to invest in some good sun-screen. You can tell I'm an optimist, can't you?