Fun in the sun (or is it?)

I’ve been enjoying the weather for the past few days. I’ve managed to get rid of my usual deathly pallor and actually look healthy now. I’ve even managed to get loads of exercise. Outdoors. Usually I only do that in winter. My pineal gland was getting more sunlight than usual and so not even I could maintain my usual level of cynicism and rancour in order to maintain posting on the blog for the duration of the fine weather.

But – wait a minute! There has to be something for Govstooge to get fucked off about! For a civil servant who has made whingeing and moaning an art form it is inconceivable that the good humour should persist.

And yes, it’s true. I have found something new to mouth off about.

I have written previously about the summer fashions on display in the Department – fucking flip flops, fantastic for the beach but utterly annoying in an open-plan office (rhythmic whacking - making the entire place sound like a S&M festival), not to mention DANGEROUS!

Just to go further afield, I decided earlier in the week to avail myself of some flexible leave and visit my nearest urban centre to purchase some more suitable attire for this weather. I failed miserably. I returned home with €30 worth of books and some fancy naan breads and a new and interesting type of cheese.

Women’s summer fashions in high street shops make me despair. I look round at what other women are wearing and it’s either tight tops that accentuate all the wobbly bits or else it’s big tent-like kaftany things that hide all the wobbly bits yet leave you looking like a marquee. And then there are the ones that have no fabric whatsoever on the back. No thanks. I’m finding it absolutely impossible to find dignified summer wear this year.

I am not a large lady by any means. I’m a size 12 on my bottom half and slightly bigger on top. But I have some wobbly bits. I refuse to have my midriff on display. Anything tight is out, out, out, because I will be adjusting it all day. I wear full-length trousers or skirts, because I look like a knob in shorts with my knobbly knees. Pale, ghostly, knobbly knees. So, I’m stuck with cheap polo shirts from Penney’s, which usually shrink at the first wash. And their current ones have horizontal stripes, which make me look five feet wide. Where are all the bloody plain ones?

My large collection of t-shirts bought on holidays or received as gifts are my only recourse. Some of them are baggy and leave me with a lovely farmer’s tan which stops halfway up my upper arm. These, combined with baggy combat pants, make me look like I’m permanently a student or just back from a music festival. Timeless, yes, but boring. But it’ll have to do.

I needn’t have bothered trying to update my wardrobe. The weather’s to break today or tomorrow. In fact, as I write, the sun has disappeared and returned to its rightful home several hundred miles further south.

Certain dodgy items of clothing will hopefully be put away as the sun fades... I was horrified to see that every second young fella in town was wearing those “bloomers” or Bermuda short-type things. Often with floral patterns. Cool they may be to wear and obviously fashionable, but they are GAY. Especially when coupled with skinny white torsos and legs (or red peeling ones). Jesus, they’re rotten! How can they think they look good in them? Since when have pink floral patterns been in for guys anywhere other than San Francisco?

I did enjoy the sun while it lasted. But I missed my ranting. It’s good to be back.