Hot stuff

Phew. It's just not natural, this weather, is it? Not British. Lawn's a mess, too, and don't ask about the tomatoes. Still, mustn't grumble.

Phew. Warm enough for you? Has anybody done the frying the egg on the pavement yet? There's been the warning about snakes like boa constrictors on Baxenden golf course; a seal has been spotted sunbathing near Hammersmith Bridge; barracuda are entering northern waters; there's a naked rambler loose on the Pennine Way; and they've had camel-racing at the Bakewell Show.

Hottest day ever in London yesterday. Pavement tables filled with self-conscious people, often pink, usually glistening. The whiff of barbecue, the waft of sunblock, the clench of the water bottle. Naked knees everywhere, and other bits that you don't often see, which seems a very good idea. Big toes, for example. All very well elsewhere. Not here. What happened to the odd break in the clouds, the character-building breeze off the sea, the sand in the sandwich? Phew. It's just not natural, this weather, is it? Not British. Lawn's a mess, too, and don't ask about the tomatoes. Still, mustn't grumble.