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Roma’s Ramblings| T

here it was. Beaming through the blinds, trickling across my pillow- imprinted face; the golden spherical stranger was back. No grey, no rain,

no ominously foreboding clouds to wake to but…sun. Stirring half in disbelief, I wrenched up the blinds and let the curious warmth pour in.

As we all know, proper sunshine is a rare treat in Britain. So, when it does arrive; we go all out. We haul out those neglected summer dresses, shades and shorts, grab those dusty picnic hampers and out to the parks we flood.

So there we are, lying in the warm grass, the perplexing heat settling on our skin, smiling childishly by the surprise of it all. No chunky jackets or ‘just in case’ umbrellas today my dear. Could it get any better? There’s the soft bubbling and flowing of fizzling drinks all around, the gentle purring of the ice cream van simmering in the distance, the delighted giggling of children tumble-bumping down the hills, the soppy couples mellow and melting all over the place and everyone is wearing as hilariously little as possible (two blond girls in the flimsy, neon-green bikinis on the palace front, I’m talking to you. It wasn’t that hot)

This is what we’ve waited for all year, right here in this very moment, right here in the honeyed sweet centre of the summer buzz. And then what happens? Give it more than one day in to this arduously awaited heat? Well, we get a bit sick of it.

You see, while fantasising about the blazing weather we are so deprived of all year, we forget that most of us just aren’t built for the sun. When you spend all year in damp, unpredictable fridge environment, it’s difficult to adjust. The proof? We end up magnetised to the shade.

Our Shady Secret

We just want what we can’t have. Give us anymore than a couple of hours in the heat and we soon conclude its sticky, its uncomfortable, its irritating and quite frankly just a little too much for us. Cold drinks inside against a cool surface? Yes please.

But do you know what? This is how it should be. We are not children of the sun, no matter how much we try to kid ourselves, we were born and bred for the cold. The grey and blustery is where we thrive! We all moan about it but secretly, I think we all love it. Puddles, windscreen wipers, thick coats; it’s all so beautifully British. Just walk amongst the crowds in London as a rain shower commences; nowhere in the world will you see an array of umbrellas and coat hoods shoot up so efficiently and naturally. We have adapted to our environment and evolved to expect the worst; we are rain children.

Recently, I’ve heard people nattering and hoping for hot weather come the Olympics in order to give the best possible impression of London. I couldn’t disagree more. Why have anything other than true British weather? Tourists want to soak up London life so let them have a cultural drench, literally. Plus, our British athletes will excel in the climate they know best and we could make bucket loads on selling umbrellas, now that’s economic initiative for you.

Rain is what we want, rain is what we need and to be honest, rain is probably what we’ll get.

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