The power of suggestion
You won’t keep that big happy grin on for too long, you big beardy trendy bollix.
Think outdoor this summer, yeah roight…
Think soggy bread rolls and soft crisps at the neighbour’s annual rain-soaked barbecue.
Think generous lashings of athlete’s foot powder in wellington boots.
Think freezing your bollix off on a kayaking outing to Dalkey Island and losing sight of the coast after paddling 50 meters into the mist.
Think condensation building up on the windows of the car during a prolonged shower, with agitated kids on the back seat clamouring to go back to the beach and build damp sand castles.
Think wedding marquees blown off to Wales or beyond.
Think wet dog smell because you can no longer recall what a dry dog smells like.
Think skin rash between your shoulder blades from wearing a rain poncho for two weeks.
Think cycling against the wind and losing all sensation in your face from the buffetting of the wind and rain.
Think cobblestones in Temple Bar, shining in the rain.
Think glistening salmon on top of the spire of St Ann's church in Shandon, as wet as if it were still swimming in the River Lee.
Think reaching the top of Croagh Patrick in the encroaching mists and not having a clue where Clew Bay might be.
Think windscreen wipers struggling to keep up with the spray on the M50 while following an articulated lorry.
Think loud incessant drumming of the giddy fat drops of rain on the roof of the tent while dampness seeps through your sleeping bag.
Think browsing the Kids’ Rainwear section of the H&M website while skipping the shorts and sandals tabs.
Think of the pleasant smell of laundry around the house while all your freshly washed damp clothes are placed on the radiators at full blast, as the wash line outside sings a song of despair in the gale force winds.
Think about planting rice in the back garden.
Think outdoors this summer, my damp underwear-clad arse...
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