Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Two Brown Legs Don't Make A Summer

I’m fairly used to witnessing disturbing sights here at Whirl Towers.

Either Son of Whirl will have trodden half a packet of Bourbon biscuits into the carpet, or Girly of Whirly will have discovered him and soundly smitten his bare bottom with her Vengeance Bat, or Geoff will have hunted down and rent asunder a helpless rasher of bacon.

But bathing trunks? Hauling themselves from the laundry bin? With cries of, ‘I’m not needed any more...’? Surely, you jest.

To be honest, when I first saw them, I wondered if the evil hordes of the Underworld had begun seeping through the cracks in the plaster as dark shadows. They do that, apparently. But no — just the black satin(esque) sheen of my trunks, flibbling o’er the wickerwork.

‘What’s going on?’ I said.

‘Summer’s over. I’m not needed any more.’

I glanced out of the window at the late summer berries hugging each other for warmth, the brown leaves gathering on the trees, and the snowmen.

‘It’s true there won’t be any pools or oceans for a while, but that doesn’t mean I can’t don you. That we can’t still have a little fun.’

My trunks curled the hem of their left leg into what looked like a feeble smile. ‘Can we pretend the bathtub is a flume?’

‘Hey,’ I replied, running the tap, ‘we can have deck chairs, a parasol, everything...

So I painted the bathroom orange and got some sand from a builder. Plucked a few long-haired teenagers off the street and equipped them with surfboards and a lexicon of drawled enthusiastic gibberish. Made a crab shell for Geoff out of an old cereal packet and one or two Blue Peter annuals. We had the kids from down the road in hulas. An tub of ice cream in the sink. And I set up the shower to hose us down with diluted Factor 30, just for the atmospheric odour.

I tellya, it was a great afternoon in.


fairyhedgehog said...

It can't be that time of year already. I haven't had my holiday yet! We go away on Sunday and summer isn't officially over until we get back.

Judearoo said...

Trailed you here from custard willy dipping comment on MLS's happiness.

Nice blog; will be back. :P

McKoala said...

Aw, Whirl. Did SoW go back to school today and leave you all on your ownio?

JaneyV said...

My enormous bathing costume is languishing in the airing cupboard. I feel that to preserve its self esteem I should give it an alternate function - like mainsail or tent.

I'm back to work officially. It's autumn for me FairyHH. But you hang on to that summer feeling as long as you possibly can.

Whirlochre said...

I'm afraid it is. Hope you're going somewhere decent (ie not Margate).

You're living proof that custard willy dipping has its merits — so welcome aboard to this truly nice blog and return soon.

Tomorrow — and I'm hoping to use the time wisely to savage a certain phantom cat...

Sure it's not a trainee windsock?

fairyhedgehog said...

We're only going as far as Brittany so I'm packing my raincoat. I've no idea why we're not heading for the sun this year but I'm sure it will be very bracing. (That does sound a bit like Margate, doesn't it?)

Robin S. said...

The first day of September is a funereal day for me, every every every year.

I so comisserate with your shorts.

Whirlochre said...

Brittany could very well be bracing — or it could be splendid. I've enjoyed many early September hols in Northern France, the bestest probably being 9/11 2002 when no militant Algerians blew up my parasol on Houlgate beach.

What? September's great! Second only to May in my book.

Robin S. said...


I don't like being cold. Feels like death to me! I live for spring to srat warming things up, look up at the sun and enjoy each day of summer, and then, when the nights shorten and the mornings are what you all call "fresh", I get sad.

fairyhedgehog said...

I feel like that too, Robin. It bothers me less now that we have a very warm house but when I was a kid I hated winter.