[Karan]: Yesterday was so warm during the 8.30am school run, that we all set off in T-shirt sleeves; no coats, jackets or school cardigans required. The in-car temperature reading reported faithfully that the temperature outside was 23 degrees, and my heart sank with the inevitability that we were all going to get a lot hotter as the day went on.
For those of you lucky enough to have escaped a moment in my presence to know what I look like, I'm of Northern Irish descent which dictates my dark hair, blue eyes and very, very pale skin. Who I think I'm kidding with the dark hair description is anyones guess, as it's clear to a blind man on a charging horse that Dulux would consider me more Distressed Grey than Winsome Brunette; but I digress.
Having such pale skin is a curse, because I fry in the heat. I'd love to be more exotic and interesting to look at, all olive skin and gorgeousness, but I'm stuck with anemic Albino skin tones. My DNA suck and I blame my parents! When I was much younger, I once fell asleep sunbathing on the beach and emerged from the sand like a Rock Lobster - but only on the one side, as no one had thought to turn me over half way through! It was stupid of me and I was in agony, not able to sleep, shower - or take part in any other activities that begin with "s", for a very long time. From that moment forth I swore to myself that I'd never be careless in the sun again and dedicated my life to being pale and interesting. This decision has left me open to much ridicule...
In a previous life I worked for a motorsport engineering company, and toured the UK with the team who competed in the British Touring Car Championship: happy days. Part of my job was the procurement of the team kit, which included shorts to wear during high summer. I arrived at sunny, glorious Thruxton one weekend, in my shorts, and my boss asked me to go and stand near the first corner so that my lily white legs would distract our opponents. He was convinced they'd take their hands off the steering wheels to protect their eyes from the glare and crash, allowing our poorly qualifying drivers to take up position and lead the race. How rude! It was, of course, all said tongue in cheek, and I took it in the spirit in which it was meant - none of us should ever take ourselves too seriously. Besides, I had the last laugh, as I still have a full head of (greying) hair; I can fake tan my legs, but he will always be follically challenged.
Upon our arrival in the playground yesterday, the other mums gawped and gasped in disbelief at my reluctant and public acknowledgement that it was, indeed, very warm - "...just how hot is it?!" exclaimed one playground friend. The consensus of opinion seemed to be that if I had foregone one layer of clothing, perhaps they should all be attired in swimwear. Oh, how we laughed.
Another friend has recently become entranced in the Twilight novels (about vampires), and now believes this has helped her to know me better, whilst another says she has an overwhelming urge to purchase milk upon departing my company. I have so few ribs left to ping.
I am writing this blog from home this morning, enjoying the peace and solitude whilst the children are off leading Nanny a merry dance, and whilst Ian continues his work on the showroom. An idle day for me is unlikely I fear, as I have all the windswept and interesting chores to complete before, my weekly sojourn to Tesco for supplies and refreshment (mmmm, Costa Coffee). Upon my A4 double-sided and laminated To Do List, rests "Laundry", which requires regular excursions OUTSIDE, in 27 degree heat, to hang out washing. As it is so hot, and I'm alone in the house without children to terrify, I am wearing shorts and a vest top, but my skin is screaming like souls damned to hell under the tropical Kettering sun. So I must put up with the urine being extracted for all eternity, and not subject myself to all things solar; I just don't like it.
In the wise words of Adam and the Ants: "...ridicule is nothing to be scared of", so do your worst playground mummies!
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