28 December, 2008

Hot in the city

Christ on a bike it's hot. Sorry, I know the UK and other non Antipodean people didn't need to know that but it is. Phew, what a scorcher, as The Currant Bun would say. I've had the fan on for most of the afternoon, it's after 8pm and it's still on. Not that I'm complaining, oh no. Well, maybe just a bit.

What I do want to complain about - and I am fully aware of the hypocrisy of the whinge - is the bloody backpackers and other beach invaders who, tempted by the promise of sand without shingle, ice cold water and a veritable fleshfest, invade the beach during the holiday season. They drive me insane.

Yes, yes, I can hear you now. Listen to Little Miss 'I Grew up in the Midlands Absobloodylutely Miles from The Sea and Now I Live by The Beach, Yes, Only Two Roads Back and Yes I Can See the Sea from the Bus Stop' SSS. And you'd be right. I did indeed grow up nowhere near a beach and yes, you'd think I'd be more than happy to welcome other visitors to my little piece of Paradise. Not bloody likely.

Firstly, these interlopers have no idea how to use public transport. They generally travel in packs and without fail the first pink faced sunseeker will ask the driver if the bus goes to Chigley*. Yes, fuckwit, the bus goes to Chigley, it says so on the front. So far so good. How much is it to go to Chigley? $3.00. Pinkface gets out his wallet and struggles to locate the fare. Are his fellow sunseekers at this very moment outside the bus getting their money out? No. Will at least three more of them ask if the bus goes to Chigley? Yes. Can you numpties not communicate with each other? And why are you all paying separately? Why the fuck can't one of your group pay everyones fare then give the three bucks back on the bus? No, far too straightforward, far too efficient. Meanwhile, the rest of us (I've already dipped my ticket and am on the bus sitting down) have to wait like roasting chickens while you all giggle and take your time boarding.

And another thing. Don't sit at the front. Those seats are for people who really need them, not for you great lumps to sit taking up two seats per person by stretching your legs out and putting your dirty trotters up next to you. Move to the back. Don't you dare sit there laughing and pretending you can't see the old ladies and gents who look at you with dismay then stagger uncomfortably further along. Unless you're 7 months pregnant or in plaster I don't want to see you down front.

Your bag doesn't need a seat. I don't care if it's heavy, I really don't. People shouldn't stand up just because you can't afford the taxi fare to the train station. Get your effing backpack off the seat and let someone put their arse down.

Once at the beach, please observe the etiquette. It makes life more pleasant for everyone and makes you look less like a dickhead. Mind you, the nylon football shirt you're wearing marks you out straight away but we can overlook that. Having said that, quite why the four Irish girls who live in the flat upstairs went out in their on Christmas Day is beyond me. Wouldn't you make more of an effort at Christmas?

Anyway, back to the matter at hand.

1. Don't get drunk and go into the sea. You're not at Southend now. Yes, it looks inviting but jump in there with a belly full of booze and you'll get into trouble. The lifesavers don't really want to rescue stupid 15 stone oafs whose sole swimming experience is managing to do a length of the pool at primary school then doing nothing but divebombing the pool in Tenerife . And if you're sober, please swim between the flags. Not that I'm suggesting you can get drunk and get into trouble in the patrolled area but it certainly makes life easier for the people who give up their own time to make sure you don't drown.

2. Don't play football where little kids are making sandcastles. Bugger off up to the grassed area and do it.

3. Please take your rubbish with you when you stagger back up to the bus stop. That goes for the locals too.

4. Don't get outrageously drunk in the local pub and start fights. It's embarrassing and unnecessary.

And for crying out loud, use sunscreen. Yes, you do need factor 30. Much as the locals find the steady procession of bright red people entertaining, it can't make sleeping easy, not to mention the fact that you might end up with skin cancer.

Sorry, my lovelies. Do come and visit. Just watch out for a short, tanned brunette giving you the evil eye. You'll be breaking a rule without even knowing it.

You can see that the heat makes me just a little bit tetchy, can't you? Mind you, on an entertaining note, it's making me nice and brown and yes, I'm taking my own advice and wearing sunscreen. I got a good laugh when someone asked me what number spraytan I was wearing. I didn't even know spraytans had numbers. And I got a good result in the sales when I bought a skirt for $33.00. I bought the same one in a different colour not three weeks ago and it cost $99.00. Now, if I could just eat enough lettuce to get it to fit I'd be even happier.

2 comments:

Jacki said...

Oh dear! How long do they hang about for? Will you have the tourists for the entire summer?

Foodycat said...

Some of the domestic product is as bad - we got to listen to a bunch of teenage boys walking off the Manly ferry saying they were going to get drunk then go swimming. Woohoo! Shark bait!