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What is there not to love about the summer......?


Frankito

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As a Scotsman, this weather is positively tropical and I just love it... It makes me feel very lazy and chilled and I just wish I had more than two days to enjoy it...


Winter, snow, bare trees, public transport chaos all seem very far away.

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I love the summer just not in London. It does have a tendency to bring out the twats of the city, generally just being noisy and twattish. Peace and quiet is hard to come by and public transport is horrendous.


And it's not exactly sexy with all of the sweating, frizzy flat hair, make up falling off your face!


Give me winter any day. Peaceful and tranquil, atmospheric, sexy knits, sitting by the fire, hot chocolate, snuggling..

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I understand your Caledonian infatuation with the sun Frankie, my OH is a blue-white celt from the land of Riverdance and is in sunbathing mode the moment it pops its head out from behind a cloud (usually some time in May), but you can't be serious. What is there not to love??


Suffocating heat, the way pollution just seems to sit around, sweat, other peoples' sweat, public transport, #*&$s with loud music in cars, little swine on scooter/mopeds nyiing-nyiinging their way up and down interminably, pubs that don't know how to keep beer properly cold, midges-mosquitoes and flies, children being off school, the smell of ambre solaire, the smell that emanates from dried up drains, sunburn, caravans on the roads, no football, adults dressed as 10 year olds, dirt and dust accumulating with no rain to wash it away, flying ants, tourists, summer tv schedules, misanthropists moaning about how they wish it would rain.

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When you put it like that, yes I tnink I would rather be dead, or shacking up with an eskimo....! Lol.


Apart from all those horrid and valid things you peoples mention, here is what I personally get out of the summer:


- long, warm weekends where I spend most of my time outdoors.

- sitting in the garden with chilled music in the background ( e.g. A bit of Morcheeba) and a good book in one hand, a cold beer from my very own fridge.

- summer flora

- drinks after work where people spill out onto the streets

- sitting in the park under a shaded tree reading a book with the dog by my side, warm but with a cool breeze

- people generally seem happier ( what they are wearing doesn't tend to offend me to the core, I reckon we can't all be as stunning as me.

- afternoon siestas (weekends only unfortunately) with the window open, nice breeze blowing through


Should I go on... Zzzzzzzz

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Medsy, I lived in Spain for two years and loved it. I am very happy here, thanks, with my memories.


Perhaps one day I will go back but not until I am older.


I imagine blue-white celt (as in Celt)

refers to skin colour of your average Scot i.e transparent.

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Alan Medic Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> Frankie.........you should emigrate to Spain

>

> maxxi,what the the hell is a blue-white celt?

>

> zeban, what's a sexy knit?



Not my OH now that's for sure. After steadfastly roasting herself in the sun's rays at every possible opportunity she has gone a deep and even (very) light tan.

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I bought In The Summertime by that Mungo Jerry when it was first released and used to sing along to it with gusto, and indeed brio whenever I was rocking down the disco and he was the platter of the moment.


I didn't 'get to make it, make it good in a layby' as Mungo exhorted though. I never learned to drive and the girls I met, though obliging enough were not prepared to go halves on a taxi to a convenient layby.

And that doesn't even take into account how much we would have had to tip the cabby to turn a blind eye to us 'making it and making it good' while in the layby, which by the way would probably be more than six miles from Charing Cross, so he wouldn't have legally had to take us there in the first place, let alone allowed us to 'make it and make it good', presumably on his back seat.


It would have taken a cabby of the most tolerant type to go along with that sort of venture and the tip would have been ruinous.

In those days most cab drivers were disinclined to take a fellow south of the river, never mind allowing him to take a popsy halfway to heaven while his meter was running, though frankly at the time running up a large fare on that score probably wouldn't have broken the bank.


But I didn't allow it to worry me over much and enjoyed myself while I was young.

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