British Sunshine

So here I am sitting in my garden, enjoying the sunshine and the warmth, the smell of freshly cut grass, the bees buzzing around my newly landscaped garden. Yes, we call it a garden here. Never mind that it is just a slab of cement with a broken down miniature weber charcoal grill (Remember those? They could grill a burger and a half after an hour of “building up” the coals. Handy.) –but, if there is access to sunshine (ah, wait, this is England, who am I kidding? Access to rain.), then it is a garden. Clearly, it is soo much more about the potential to grow something than the actually growth!

It has been a picture perfect few days, weather wise. And all of Britain has been gearing up for the “hottest” weekend of the year. Evidently, it is going to soar up to 80 degrees tomorrow! And, yes, all my lovely Texan friends, that is really just Spring, but here it is a veritable heat wave. As I write, all of my neighbors are busy in their gardens planting, furrowing (is that a verb?) or whatever it is you do. I have a beautiful garden, naturally. And, naturally, I, myself, have nothing to to do with it! I have hired a wonderful little guy (OK, he is actually about 6’2 so not so little) to do all this for me.

One of the best lessons my mother ever taught me was that a lady should know how to do everything.

And, then find a man to do it for you. This goes for changing tires, fixing appliances, yard work, assembling furniture etc. Your basic handy man. Most women call this a husband. I call it James. And, luckily for James, he calls it a job. I used to bribe my gay boyfriends with promises of home cooked meals. Sort of a 50s marriage a la 2000. But, eventually, I decided that money was a better currency than fried chicken. Less labor intensive and can be done on demand. And, we all know how good I am at “demanding! But, I digress…

This beautiful weather streak started on Wednesday of this week (today being Saturday) and when I left work on Thursday, I was desperate to enjoy it. For those of you who had to read that short story in grade school about the little girl who moved to Venus from Earth, where it rained every day for 7 years and then had one hour of sunshine, you will be able to appreciate what it is like in London when the sun is out. (OK, and not it matters, but that little Earth girl got locked in the closet at school for the hour and missed the sunshine) Anyway, here in England, it is reckless abandon, joyous mayhem, revelry and inebriation. Yes, I said inebriation. And not drunkenness of emotion and happiness. Pretty much beer and cider. Because when the sun comes out, the British drink. (Natch, they drink ALL the time – but, it is more obvious and public when they are standing in the street soaking up the vitamin D)

I was really trying to think hard of a way to enjoy the upper 70s’ sunshine when I left the office on Thursday and I was stumped. Were this Austin, we would be out on the Town Lake hike and bike trail, jogging or cycling. Or at Pease Park, playing frisbee golf, or water skiing or swimming at Lake Travis or just playing tennis or golf ANYWHERE. See the common thread in all of these? Physical activity.

But, sign, not an option in England. And, this got me to thinking…and I realized the British are some non-physical, sedentary immobile people. Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE living here. And y’all know I LOVE my drink. But, seriously, let’s think about it. How many British sporting teams, athletes or Olympians can you count off the top of your head? (And, no, a team in the Premiership football league doesn’t count – most of them just move here from Africa or Southern Europe. NOT British.) I can think of one – David Beckham. And, he got kicked out. First to Spain and then LA.

Now, the British love to talk about how fat the Americans are. But, people, this is the country that brought us the fried mars bar. And, all my friends love going to the US. To eat. Because our food is good. Not that I don’t love a little fried bland bread/potato/candy bar. Afterall, SOMETHING has to soak up the booze!) But, think about it. For every fried cheesy treat Texas or South Carolina can bring you, California has some wheatgrass alfalfa concoction to balance it out. The healthiest thing in London? Umm. Struggling here. Soup? Water? Yep. There ya go. Not even a light beer in sight.

But, let’s get back to this sport thing. When you think of athletics in the US, I think (natch!) of football. Where each team has a huge numbers of players. And, what do the fans do? Well, if you’re a cute bouncy girl, you become a cheerleader or join the drill/dance team. If you’re uncoordinated and dorky, you join the marching band. And, if you’re at UT and a rich preppy uncoordinated guy, you stand around and fire a cannon or shovel longhorn sh*t decked out in full chaps, bandana and cowboy hat. But, hey, you’re all moving around, sweating. (Even if is because any movement in full chaps, bandana and cowboy hat in 100 degrees generates sweat!)

Big sport in the UK? Cricket. And, what that actually consists of other than two lone guys standing a few feet from each other and making weird throwing and deflecting motions, I just don’t know. I mean, how active can you actually be when you’re decked out in formal white long sleeves, long pants, sweater vests and big heavy hats? (And, clearly it is NOT 100 degrees so you don’t even have that!)

And, what, you may ask, do the cricket fans do?

You guessed it. Drink. Very civilized drinks, of course. Pimms. Which, if you’ve never had it, consists of a salad bowl in a glass of ice with some booze and seven up. I guess this is where the “healthy” part comes in?

So, here I am looking for a away to enjoy the sunshine. And, the only things my friends can suggest are gardening or going for a country walk. Last time I checked, I wasn’t 70. So, neither of these is winning me over. Now, of course, I work with a bunch of lawyers. And, (surprise! surprise!) we are all uber-competitive. We have some serious athletes on our team (and, NOT surprise, surprise, they are an Aussie and a Kiwi) but my team actually decided to embrace the sunshine and take party in a charity 5k run on this very Thursday. WOW – here we go! Exercise, movement, sweat, activity! Have I just been proven wrong? Do I have to rethink my perspective on the “lazy” British??

Well, as it happens, not so much. Cause guess where the race finished? You got it.

A pub.