diamond geezer

 Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Summer's here (solstice: 0746 BST), and here's how I know...

Tattoos: Haven't some of you been busy during the winter months? Not content with your body surface in its natural form, large numbers of you appear to have had gallons of ink injected beneath your skin and now you look like a walking art gallery. Until recently these new pagan graphics have been lurking hidden beneath shirtsleeves, blouses and trouser legs, but a bit of sunshine and you've whipped everything out to parade in public. I swear there weren't so many tattoos on proud display last summer. But, really, couldn't you have chosen something a little more, erm, tasteful? That cartoon dolphin is more crass than unique, those Celtic swirls are so passé and that posh foreign lettering could read anything for all you know. I'm not averse to the odd inky gem in the right place, but some of you have clearly taken things to extremes. Alas, acres of virgin flesh have been adulterated by art more reminiscent of Athena than the Tate. And however smart you lot think you look now, I must say I'm not looking forward to Summer 2025 when I'll have to endure sight of all your bleached, wrinkled designs with runny, purple edges. Still, your choice.

Sunburn: We Brits, we're not cut out for heatwaves. While the rest of the world goes brown, we go red. The tube yesterday was full of people who'd overdosed on solar radiation over the weekend but looked more like they'd just been for a ten mile jog. Still, a few hours in the summer sunshine is so much cheaper than paying some dodgy salon to microwave your torso throughout the winter just so that your skin looks 'healthy'. Of course a suntan is nothing of the sort, it's just the fast track to epidermal damage and rapid ageing, but such is the public's desire for a tan that looking pasty white no longer cuts it in trendy social circles. Me I'm lucky, I go brown pretty rapidly, but I don't take full advantage of the fact. Over the weekend at least three different people approached me and asked for the time because I appeared to be the only person in London still wearing a watch. While the rest of you may yearn for an even Bisto colour all over, I'm happy to sport that telltale white bracelet of untanned skin round my left wrist. You may look less freaky, but at least I know what time it is.

Daleks: The BBC went into pre-publicity overdrive for the Doctor Who season finale last week. You must have noticed. Website adverts, mammoth PR plugging and heavy rotation trailers packed with mega special effects - there can't have been many licence fee payers left in the dark by the time 7pm on Saturday came round. And yet the viewing figures for the final episode (at 'just' 6.19 million) have been revealed to be the lowest of the series. No matter that Chris Eccleston's doctor and Russell T Davies' direction have been lauded to almost universal critical acclaim (and rightly so), the British public just weren't interested. No, they were all out in their gardens enjoying the sunshine and overblackening a few dodgy-looking chicken legs. The BBC may have hoped that their reinvented flying Daleks would be invincible, but alas the conquerors of the galaxy have been defeated by a fleet of barbecues.

see also: sandals, body odour, unexpected thunderstorms, salad, baggy shorts, hayfever, flies (and other insects), hosepipe bans, children licking McFlurries, sweat, lethargy.

<< click for Newer posts

click for Older Posts >>

click to return to the main page

...or read more in my monthly archives
Jan19  Feb19  Mar19
Jan18  Feb18  Mar18  Apr18  May18  Jun18  Jul18  Aug18  Sep18  Oct18  Nov18  Dec18
Jan17  Feb17  Mar17  Apr17  May17  Jun17  Jul17  Aug17  Sep17  Oct17  Nov17  Dec17
Jan16  Feb16  Mar16  Apr16  May16  Jun16  Jul16  Aug16  Sep16  Oct16  Nov16  Dec16
Jan15  Feb15  Mar15  Apr15  May15  Jun15  Jul15  Aug15  Sep15  Oct15  Nov15  Dec15
Jan14  Feb14  Mar14  Apr14  May14  Jun14  Jul14  Aug14  Sep14  Oct14  Nov14  Dec14
Jan13  Feb13  Mar13  Apr13  May13  Jun13  Jul13  Aug13  Sep13  Oct13  Nov13  Dec13
Jan12  Feb12  Mar12  Apr12  May12  Jun12  Jul12  Aug12  Sep12  Oct12  Nov12  Dec12
Jan11  Feb11  Mar11  Apr11  May11  Jun11  Jul11  Aug11  Sep11  Oct11  Nov11  Dec11
Jan10  Feb10  Mar10  Apr10  May10  Jun10  Jul10  Aug10  Sep10  Oct10  Nov10  Dec10 
Jan09  Feb09  Mar09  Apr09  May09  Jun09  Jul09  Aug09  Sep09  Oct09  Nov09  Dec09
Jan08  Feb08  Mar08  Apr08  May08  Jun08  Jul08  Aug08  Sep08  Oct08  Nov08  Dec08
Jan07  Feb07  Mar07  Apr07  May07  Jun07  Jul07  Aug07  Sep07  Oct07  Nov07  Dec07
Jan06  Feb06  Mar06  Apr06  May06  Jun06  Jul06  Aug06  Sep06  Oct06  Nov06  Dec06
Jan05  Feb05  Mar05  Apr05  May05  Jun05  Jul05  Aug05  Sep05  Oct05  Nov05  Dec05
Jan04  Feb04  Mar04  Apr04  May04  Jun04  Jul04  Aug04  Sep04  Oct04  Nov04  Dec04
Jan03  Feb03  Mar03  Apr03  May03  Jun03  Jul03  Aug03  Sep03  Oct03  Nov03  Dec03
 Jan02  Feb02  Mar02  Apr02  May02  Jun02  Jul02 Aug02  Sep02  Oct02  Nov02  Dec02 

eXTReMe Tracker
jack of diamonds
Life viewed from London E3

» email me
» follow me on twitter
» follow the blog on Twitter
» follow the blog on RSS

my flickr photostream