the next entry is dedicated to wellington boots

what exactly's wrong with this fucking country? it's meant to be summer for christ's sake. but instead there's torrential rain, cornish villages being wiped out and some poor unfortunate people off to reading up to their eye balls in mud (who i was kinda jealous of but no slightly less so). i was always under the impression that BST was meant to be british *summer* time (as well as belle and sebastian time since everyone knows they would great when the sun's putting in an appearance). the few days of decent weather we've had has not been enough to get myself a proper lovely sun tan. as a result, thanks to contant sun related t-shirt wearing i've got a suntan which looks like i've been playing all creatures great and small with my arms halfway up a cow's backside - not a great look really. so i'm faced with a couple of options. first up i can keep my pastey, cow fisted tan of the moment, and assume that there isn't going to be many opportunities to expose more flesh than my arms to the general public in the foreseeable future. i could always wait patiently sit and wait hoping we'll get one of those indian summer things when it gets lovely during summer, in plenty of time for my week of work. last, and not totally discount yet, is the final straw option fo going to stand in a glorified toaster and get a tan that way. which may or may not be almost as gay as the stupid damn sailor's hat (which i should point out, is yet to have found another chance to be worn in public - deepest darkest surrey doesn't have a high seamen population really). all these decisions. anyway, it's probably best that the sun stays hidden away seeing as my sunglasses managed to go flying out of my pocket while spinning around on a roller coaster, and i can't really be bothered, or waste the money, replacing them. still, it's almost the long weekend, it's almost the end of pass season, and it's ever closer to payday. oh yeah, and a name has been decided on: ant farm it is....