After months of hibernation, the sun shone today. So we did what the rest of Glasgow did and went for a picnic in Calderglen park. As we shook out the blanket and unpacked our al fresco fare, the wind started to come up. Things went a little pear-shaped from there.
Picnics in the wind are a bit like sex on a beach - a lovely idea but more than just a little uncomfortable. Especially as Scotland has a year-round wind chill factor capable of turning even the slightest breeze into an arctic gale. In addition, and this you must have noticed, wind only ever blows the things you need away from you, while blowing things you don't want straight up your nose. Never have I found a breeze that could slide over the sandwiches, pass the pineapple or nudge over the noodles. Rather they send us charging after packets, cartons and children's toys, requiring us to lift rear from blanket. The blanket then takes off like a kite primed to strike you in the face as you turn back to face your point of departure.
So there I was, trying to persuade the wee 'un to scoff down her sandwiches so that we could go to see the chameleons in the indoor tropical garden (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) when it struck me. I was the only one there still wrapped up in my winter coat. Far from noticing the bracing breeze, the Scots were slapping on the sunscreen and removing layers of clothing.
I have a theory. As soon as Scottish children are old enough to walk they are marched to the nearest loch wearing only wellies and a t-shirt and, armed with a bucket and spade, instructed to find the monster. In the process they slowly turn blue and develop a case of lifelong low level hypothermia making any temperature over 4 degrees celsius feel positively balmy. I think they have actually lost the capacity to feel temperature, so they only have the visuals to go on. It looks sunny. It's hot.
But it's not. I promise!