Just like in the movies

The sight of two grown men scampering up to a rooftop for some sunshine epitomised the reason why the rest of the planet felt sorry for the residents of London. Well that and fact that they seemed to be impressed by whatever it is that Peter Andre does. It also made 'Notting Hill' a damn amusing film and in turn one of the biggest hits of the 1990’s. ‘How sad.’ I thought at the time to have to sit on a rooftop to get a suntan. Cut to 14 years later and that same judgemental woman is cozying up along side the duck pond in Hyde Park, complete with hat, gloves and scarf, trying to catch some much needed sunshine on her pale face. The Japanese tourists sitting next to me burst into fits of giggles when I tried to subtly slip off the bench and test whether the ground was too waterlogged to sit on. I sprung up with such haste that they checked under the bench to see if a duck had bitten my bottom.

Until I moved to London I hadn’t given much thought to the true meaning of the phrase ‘catch sunshine.’ To catch something means that you in effect trap it in an attempt to hang onto it for a period of time. So I use the expression to explain my behaviour today very deliberately. Today I am among thousands of Londoners who have flocked to the park having made our first sun sitting in months. It is no longer a mystery to me why the ancient Druids worshipped the sun: it appears so infrequently here it does take on mystical qualities.

We modern day sun worshippers have carried around our faith for the last few months waiting for a sign. When it comes we behave very much like super sized kitchen plant: leaning to one side to catch the sun’s rays. In winter we lean towards Gregg’s the baker. Their pasties are not a reliable source of vitamin D but they do provide a certain amount of solace from not only the lack of sun, but from Sky’s decision to run ‘The Vicar of Dibley’ yet again.
In the search for sunshine we will lean towards to park, towards the Thames or towards any open space that can accommodate us. It suddenly becomes possible to get a seat in the pubs, but not so easy to get to them, as all the regulars have moved outside and are invariably standing in front of the door.

We hibernate like bears through the winter. We venture out only to perform the most essential of tasks. Anything trivial such as socialising and exercise grinds to a halt until the summer months. Eating however doesn’t grind to a halt, in fact in most cases it increases significantly. The increased food consumption helps us store fat which gives us a little something extra to live on when it gets so dark and cold that you can’t even be bothered to go out and buy food. If you have eaten enough Gregg’s and bar snacks you can delay that overwhelming cold trip to the supermarket as long as your personal supply of blubber lasts.

As I sit here I notice a phenomenon even rarer than the sun itself. The people walking past me have their lips parted and the corners of their mouths are upturned on either side. They appear to be doing something that Londoners rarely do: they are smiling. Some of them are doing it as though they are little uncomfortable with the new placement of their lips. Some look like they may be doing it for the first times in their lives and some look they are practising, but aren’t quite competent enough to go pro yet with it.

A visitor to London in winter could be forgiven for thinking that years of evolution had rid the locals of their teeth. You can go months without seeing a set. The sun changes this. When I left home this morning my next-door neighbour was sitting on her garbage bin reading the Saturday papers in the sun. She looked happier than she had in months, so I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was awoken last night by a couple of young guys relieving themselves against that the same garbage bin.

The Japanese couple next to me are discussing how friendly they think the locals are. If only they knew what the locals were like the rest of the time. Maybe it didn’t matter, maybe it was just wonderful that this couple will go back to Japan and speak of the friendly English folk in sunny London town. I know how warming it is when people go out of their way to be friendly to you in a new country.

As I am questioning whether I may have been wrong about the humanity in London the couple stand up with their camera in hand. They approach a passing man to take a photograph of them with the gaggle of the ducks that they have been feeding a prawn sandwich from Prêt. The man they approach for help doesn’t so much as stop. He continues walking and shakes his head at them. Under is breath he mutters, ‘fucking tourists.’ Ah, thank god, I was worried that too much ‘Vicar of Dibley’ had thawed the hearts of Londoners. We need a little bit of hatred here; it makes the traffic flow faster.