With the mini heat wave crashing over the county this weekend, it was a delight to watch the good old stiff upper lip coming into play, whilst the pragmatic of us also packed brollies in hand/manbags. Tinny bad versions of Greensleeves and Match of the Day filled Friday afternoon as ice-cream vans tout round the residential streets trying to entice those suffering from the sun that it was just so much simpler to come out and pay for an ice-cream instead of walking inside and raiding the freezer, whilst children sulked as they believed their parents white lies.

Girlpants, who spent the day working on plaster boarding walls, found the day difficult given his pale pallor and the manual work; however he dealt with the heat with his usual aplomb. He broke out a t-shirt in favour of the plaid, wore shirt linen trousers and topped off the ensemble with steel toe cap boots with his socks pulled up to his knees as all good boy scouts do.

Of course, in a country which tends on the grey and rainy side, there were bound to be complaints. The words "too hot" and "gruelling" were volleyed around the back gardens, whilst the complainée's rubbed oil in on their shoulders to emphasise the beginnings of their tans in flaming reds. Pimm's Number 1 washed over the hedgerows and there was a universal extended pinkie parade as Friday night cooled over ice. And as charcoal burning wafted over the fence, Girlpants looked over, remarking that it must be barbeque time, looking meaningfully at his table football sized BBQ that still needs to be blessed. I sense that I will need to raid the freezer later on today in a quest for meat.

Meat and charcoal. Summer must be late this year.