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Home / Latest News / Why take off and bake off is summer madness

Why take off and bake off is summer madness

Predicting summer in Wales has to be the  sort of futile pursuit that keeps Derek The Weather awake at night obsessively  contemplating high and low pressure zones.

In a country where evolution thousands of  years henceforth will ultimately see our future  countrymen born with umbrella heads and flipper feet, the sight of the sun can cause rampant euphoria and the sort of madness you see when  women go shoe shopping.

Cardiff is so wet that we should be twinned with The Lost City of Atlantis rather than  Nantes, Stuttgart and Xiamen.

That’s why it’s not just mad dogs and Englishman that go out in the midday sun. Pasty  white Welsh men and women also delight in  slowly singeing themselves, giving a whole new  meaning to The Great British Bake Off.

We’re so used to shivering under a sun-less  sky that when that strange yellow orb appears  we’re quite happy to run the risk of simultaneously acquiring both skin cancer and food  poisoning in one foul swoop by firing up the  barbecue and  subjecting  ourselves to  the sort of intemperate  roasting we  also give our  badly cooked  sausages.

So it was we  found  ourselves in  one of Cardiff’s  loveliest open  spaces – Victoria Park on  the weekend – as Cardiff slowly sizzled, although on this occasion it resembled Dante’s  Inferno with added 99s and raspberry sauce.

As queues snaked relentlessly from the park’s  ice cream hut where the owners were no doubt  plotting their own escape to the sun with the  handsome profits, hordes of kids splashed around in the paddling pool making the sort of noises you hear at a lively African watering hole.

Parenthood doesn’t really prepare you for  these events the first time you witness them.

The screaming was the first thing that hit you,  the screeching of these splashing water babes  reaching fever pitch as an intermittently activated fountain cascaded towards the sky soaking anyone within 20 feet of its billowing spray.

Luckily most of my high pitch hearing has been dampened through years spent with my head in amps at rock ‘n’ roll shows, so I was happily oblivious to the more high end shrieking.

My daughter loved it. She doesn’t exactly have  the style and grace of the next Sharon Davies or  Rebecca Adlington, but, well, she is only four.  Although she’s a little bit young to be thinking  of Olympic medals just yet, she launched herself  around like a leaping salmon.

To sum up then, picnics hijacked by marauding wasps and pigeons on the rob aside, a  trip to the park is the perfect summer’s day pursuit… even if the sight of the average Brit in a partial state of undress is about as palatable  as your half-cooked barbecue.

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