Where is all this heat coming from? Does it never relent? I don't understand all this shit!
I go to Son's school to bollock the teacher. Its a lunchtime. There is classical music playing. Children are allowed to sit in the corridors, and the very forbidden trim trail.
"They're hot", a teacher tells me, "They probably didn't sleep well"
Good grief! Has she wiped their bottoms as well! What about a bit of wet-nursing!
Sunshine should never be missed was the policy at my primary school. Despite the heat bringing out the worst in everybody. Boys had vicious fights, girls were ultra-bitchy and the teachers more slap-happy than usual.
We were dragged outside on any pretext on a blindingly hot afternoon in the late sixties. Mostly to the threadbare school field, not a scrap of shade in sight. And despite being off ill several times with heatstroke, "I'll give you something to cry for", was the most sympathetic response from teaching staff.
Sportsday was a real bastard. Dragging your wooden chair miserably across the sportsfield in 90 degrees, skin angrily red and fat thighs bulging out of tight shorts, you had to run whether you liked it or not.
Miserably trailing last, only my mum cheering me on, the boys would throw stuff at me as I went by. My mum bollocked them if she saw them but no-one really gave a shit. My face as red as a beacon, I would miserably put on my team band to take part in some sort of tedious relay where I really would let the side down.
Did me plenty of harm, I tell you. I touch the red roughness of my neck. 1967 wasn't that long ago, was it? Surely there's still some bugger there I could touch for a settlement?
Meanwhile I cluck my tongue at such outrageous mollycoddling.