Monday, June 12, 2006

Fuck this, I'm moving to Norway

I've been thinking about summer, and I reckon it's pretty much how my mother described childbirth. It's absolutely horrible every year, and yet by November you've forgotten all that and you sit in your office watching it go dark at half past four, and think: God, I'm miserable. I bet I've got seasonal affective disorder.

And then summer comes again and you realise that you haven't got seasonal affective disorder at all, you really are just a miserable git irrespective of meteorological conditions. But now you are a hot, sweaty miserable git, and you have been forced to wear shorts.

How do I hate thee, summer? Let me count the ways: First, and most obviously at the moment, there's a football tournament every other year. That sucks pretty hard. Weeks on end of drunken shouting and forced jollity, and endless conversations about some potato-faced chav's podiatric health.

There's more, though. There's the hot weather, which makes squishing onto the tube even less pleasant than usual. There's the horror of getting a seat - sweet joy! - only to realise that a fat sweaty person is sitting down beside you, ready to spill their clammy flesh over your seat as well as their own.

Then there's the discovery I made this week, which is that all women are mysteriously much thinner than they appeared mere weeks - days - before. In winter, an apt pupil of Trinny & Susannah can disguise her less appealing bits through the smoke and mirrors of V-neck jumpers and black opaque tights. Not so in summer - the vest top and miniskirt heatwave uniform gives no quarter.

There's also the sun. I've mentioned previously that I am white. No, make that so very white, whiter than a flour fight at a Klu Klux Klan rally. In the past four days I have made the painful sacrifice of sitting out in the sun for quarter of an hour each day. I have also applied two coats of fake tan. By rights, this should have turned me the colour of David Dickinson. Has it? Has it bollocks. I'm not even red!

At this rate I will never tan, and then I will be forced by my family on holiday next month to spend hours outdoors without having built up any resistance whatsoever.

What's French for "I have third degree burns because my mother erroneously believes that it isn't healthy to sit indoors?"

4 Comments:

Blogger Tamburlaine said...

I feel for you, Galatea. However, here are somesuggestions for things you can think or do:

1. Because you don't sit out in the sun and tan, you won't look like a leathery-faced witch by the time you're forty, and people will think you're younger than you are (admittedly, this is somewhat delayed gratification). Or sit out in the sun daubed in factor 50 sunblock. Don't go the fake tan route. Orange isn't a good colour for anyone (look at Jodie Marsh).

2. Wearing a long floaty skirt or loose trousers is probably cooler than a miniskirt, as it will allow the breezes to waft against your legs.

3. Wander round with a cool-box ice pack and clasp it in your hands while on the Underground. Alternatively, fake extreme nausea and see how many people want to sit next to you if they think they'll be vomited upon.

Alternatively, move to Shetland - you can guarantee it being wet and about ten degrees colder than London - but at least it's part of Britain.

6/12/2006 5:48 pm  
Anonymous lb said...

How about a large, fetching hat? I suppose if it was large enough one could probably conceal an air conditioning unit in it as well.

Don't really suit hats myself so I just have to sit there and get sunstroke instead.

6/13/2006 8:40 am  
Blogger galatea said...

All suggestions duly noted. Tamburlaine, do you think everyone else in London would agree to move London to Shetland? Because I can't be more than ten minutes away from an M&S, a bookshop, and an Accessorize (oh yeah, and my friends).

I've thought about hats, but I can't help feeling that they'd make me feel like a flighty Edwardian lady poet, or Miss Marple. Perhaps a sombrero?

6/13/2006 11:54 am  
Anonymous James / AkaXakA said...

Ah, the white.

Being another nevertanner, I was pleased to find out that 'white' (or pasty) is going to be 'in' (white is the new orange!).

Isn't that grande...fashionable without trying!

6/19/2006 3:42 pm  

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