For the fifth day in a row, the sun's shining in Manchester.
Big deal, some of you may say. But for those of us who are residents of the UK's second city, the sun actually peeking out of the thick grey clouds is a massive deal indeed.
Manchester has the great privilege of having 3 distinct seasons:
- pissing it down in rain;
- dry, overcast and cool; and
- bitter cold combined with rain.
When Mancunians see the first sign of the sun, the city turns into a nudist colony - the clothes get taken off, the barbeque's grilling sausages and burgers, and a supermarket's monthly stock of beer and alcohol gets sold out in 45 minutes (okay, I exaggeerate, 15 minutes!).
Just across from my office is Grosvenor Park. And today, instead of flowers, the park was littered with people. And more bloody people! People sunbathing, blokes playing footy, office workers eating salads and cold sandwiches...it's a sight to behold.
For someone like me, who grew up most of my life in the tropical climes of the Philippines, this heatwave is not a welcome respite - it is simply pure punishment!! I have always shied away from the sun - she (or he - not sexist, me!) doesn't like me either. Let me tell you the sun and I, well, we're never going to be best mates. Actually, one of the things I love about Manchester is the fact that it's bitterly cold most of the time (not Moscow cold, but cold enough). Unless I'm playing sport or in the gym, I'd rather not sweat, thank you very much!
Don't get me wrong. I don't mind a bit of warmth; but I do struggle with anything hotter than 23 degrees. Today, I could feel my pores opening up like golf balls and I must've finished a whole can of deodorant to make sure I didn't smell. Unfortunately, not all of my workmates are smell-conscious!
The weatherman just said that it's about to get even hotter over the weekend - oh dear! Better head to Boots for a few more cans of Sure, then.
