Personal Blogs

I spent this weekend hiding from the sun. Not doing anything involving proper work or going outside. Of course, as my wife and I have plants, we had to sneak out, vampire-fashion, come the dark, to water them.

The half-pink, half-naked, well-drunk neighbours, in their gardens, may have assumed some type of blood ritual. I do hope so; maybe now they'll stop staring at us.

What is it about the fact that every time the sun comes out we don't strip down to our gundies and prostate ourselves in our patio burning animals that annoys them?

That was the weekend. I went to work...

As soon as I arrived I saw that something was wrong. Danny gave off all the signs of a man with an issue, "I'll have to cry off ... I had a barbecue ...". Hmm, sun, meat, drink, food-posioning. At least he'd maintained his pale.

[If you are going to devour the flesh of beasts, al fresco, on a fire than you have no idea of the heat off, pay attention to cleanliness and buy a decent class of chicken.]

So I had a day alone. Until...

Darren arrived, looking like a bunch of tomatoes squished into a too-small uniform, I was tempted to sprinkle him with herbs and blitz him into a sauce.

I quizzed him upon the weekend.

"I was only out for a couple of hours ... I burn easily".

"But you knew that". His head wasn't actually, going to burst, but that bright-red fat-head...I took a couple of steps back. Just in case.

"It was only a couple of hours in the morning." Classically wrong-headed. Us burners assume that we feel pain at the damage and bigger-pain after. We are morons. Maybe sometimes, but mostly we just die years later.

People see me as strange for avoiding the full-light of the naked sun upon my naked, anything.

Every time the sun shines in scotland the parks will fill with people who should avoid just that.

God's Barbecue: the park on a sunny day.

I'd love you to tell me that I'm wrong. But in a wide-brimmed hat I'll watch them all put the earth between them and the sun. Eventually.