What a lovely weekend of summer weather we have just had with temperatures nudging towards the thirty mark. I love the first (and quite possibly the only) really hot days of Summer as it turns us all stark raving mad, not least the great British Tabloids, with the Sunday Mirror today boasting the headline HOTTER THAN CAIRO which is poor in comparison to HOTTA THAN THE COSTA, HOTTY TOTTY, and BRITAINS HOT TALENT! backed by pictures of what look suspiciously like page three models frolicking on Bournemouth beach.

The River Test at Houghton Near Stockbridge

What possesses people to sit in 3o mile tailbacks on the M3 just to get a square foot of Bournemouth beach is beyond the realms of any reasoning in my opinion. Hot weather is generally (particularly the last few summers) rare in this country, so why do families want to spend it banging the first nail in to the coffin of their marriage stuck in a car with screaming kids? It’s utter madness, but I have to confess I did it many years ago, taking six hours to get back to get back from Swanage which resulted in a boil on the crack of my bottom being drained off over a five day stay at Basingstoke hospital. Maybe I should feature on and advert to keep off the roads in a heatwave, as understandably, I have never done it since, the right angled scar on my lower back a constant reminder of my stupidity.

A pair of Labrador pups enjoying their first taste of swimming

But people carry on undeterred, take for example, a quote from a lady on the beach in Bournemouth with her soon to be ex husband and father of her two children who are 12 and 9. “It’s gorgeous on the beach today, there must be thousands of people here”. I bet it wasn’t so gorgeous on the M27 this evening with you kids vomiting up in the back whilst you chucked your wedding ring on to the hard shoulder. I had sightly more empathy with surfer Jake Weale who said: “All the girls are in their bikinis so it’s a pleasant view.” I hope you don’t have a girlfriend who reads the Sunday Mirror Jake, otherwise you have a problem old son.

My eldest son George bowling for Oakley men’s Sunday side

Anyway, I spent the weekend with my girlfriend meandering around Marlborough, picnic-ing by The River Test and watching my eldest son play cricket. It cost me very little, but gave me untold amounts of happiness, and relaxation, surely far better than sitting in a traffic for hours on end before sitting on a beach desperately trying to avoid being caught looking at the Hotty Totty, followed by evening with student nurses inspecting and operating my sore bottom!!!

Enjoy it while it lasts, this is England remember, next week the headlines could well read DANK HOLIDAY WEEKEND! complete with a picture of a solitary person on Brighton beach with a brolly blown inside out.