Spring forwards
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At the first sign of sun, the sunglasses are on, the coats are left at home and the barbeque is fired up at the weekend. This is how Britain works. Spring started a week or so ago and, perhaps more through coincidence than timing, a spell of good weather arrived with it. A week or so before that, the weather seemed to meander between cold and indifferent. Now an odd, bright, yellow thing has replaced the more familiar grey clouds and the mood seems to be altogether different.
It's all changed. The mornings are still cold, but once the sun rises above a height that blinds you when walking along certain streets, it seems to warm things up. I haven't had to use a radiator for a couple of weeks at least (which is a plus when I'm at work because they don't always do anything anyway). Even our shower at home—which during the winter has two settings: cold and "s**tthat'scold"—has started to get warm again. Quite why a shower should be controlled more by the weather than the dials on the front is beyond me.
We're not used to warm weather here. When it comes, it often catches us off guard. But once it arrives, we make the most of it. The emergency stockpile of shorts and T-shirts is broken out of its case and open-toed sandals are briefly pardoned the obscenity of their existence. Pale, hairy legs are allowed an outing beneath colourful shorts that probably shouldn't have been. Perhaps none of these things are a good idea, but we do them all the same because we don't get to do them very often and frankly we might not get to do them for very long.
I use the term 'we' loosely to refer to Britons in general. I don't, however, include myself. To the best of my knowledge, I don't own any shorts. I definitely don't own any sandals. I do have lots of T-shirts. I wear those most days unless I have reason to dress up. Even then I often wear one under a shirt in winter. But I'm no lover of the sun. I appreciate its benefits and will even welcome its appearance every now and again. But you're unlikely to see me walking along the street in a less-than-fetching shorts and T-shirt combo, wearing open-toed sandals and humming a jaunty tune.
I don't mean to imply that I'm not happy about the arrival of warmer weather. I am. As much as I like my long coat, it is rather cumbersome at times and I don't begrudge an opportunity to leave it at home. I also rather like my sunglasses; my treat to myself after getting contact lenses, having not been able to wear regular sunglasses before then. But I'm still not a shorts person and certainly you won't see me sunning myself on a deckchair of any variety. My time in the sun will, by and large, be through necessity, rather than choice, as will be evident by the red fluorescence of my complexion in the hours that follow.
And so I bid welcome to the warm weather, and hope that those for whom it is such a welcome pleasure are able to make the most of it. I shall appreciate it in my own way. You'll most likely find me in the shade. If in doubt, I'll be the one not wearing sandals.