Not in that way.
We are in the midst of a minor heatwave right now. Actually, by Scotland's standards, this is probably in fact considered a major heatwave. The second the sun comes out for more than ten seconds, Glaswegians suddenly come pouring out of the woodwork (or possibly the pub?) and every park, random patch of grass and, er, beer garden is suddenly full to the brim of half-dressed Scots rapidly pinkening in the sunshine. The only reason we perhaps see slightly less sunburn than I remember from my childhood is more-than-likely due to our prolific use of sunbeds.
Anyway, I adore the sunshine just as much as the average person who only sees a few sunny days a year if they're lucky. And I hate the fact I have to be in work while the sun is beating down on all the unemployed/students/work-weird-hours people who get to laze around in the park*. I hate having to sit in a badly air conditioned office, sweltering in my (idea of) office dress. I hate having to try to concentrate on actually doing work when my brain is already out of the door and mentally lazing in the Botanic Gardens while the sun fries me to a crisp.
Today I decided to put aside my jeans (I've been living in jeans since I returned to Gran Canaria, as I couldn't be bothered ironing any black trousers) and actually wear a skirt to work. There were various reasons for this, some which I don't care to go into, but I decided that a skirt would be a little bit cooler than my jeans, so it was more practical. I dithered between my old falling-apart-but-unbelievably comfortable wedges and my brand spanking new I'm-taking-you-two-on-holiday wedges that I bought the other day. And opted for the second. Big mistake. Massive mistake.
I'm now crippled.
It took a mere ten minutes for my feet to ache and the wedges to be rapidly filling up with my blood. I ended up wearing my flatmate's slipper things on the walk to work - she had brought them to wear in the office so obviously I had to swap back to my own shoes once I got there. She procured me some plasters and I put them in the places which hurt the most. They brought temporary relief but in the afternoon OTHER parts of my feet started to hurt.
I swear to god, the devil made these shoes. They are EVIL. There is no other word for it. Pure, unadulterated, you-must-have-killed-in-a-previous-life-to-be-punished-like-this-now evil! I was in agony. And I had a forty five minute walk home to look forward to (read: dread).
The plasters fell off on the walk home. So now there was not one part of my feet not hurting. On top of that, the skirt I was wearing fell a couple of inches below the knee and was pencil style. Therefore, I was forced to take tiny little steps, and therefore couldn't walk as fast as I wanted to. So I was struggling to walk with the skirt on, struggling to walk cos of my feet threatening to fall off . . . oh, and of course, struggling to walk because of the whole heatwave thing!
My feet are covered in blood. But I made it in the door. I nearly cried in relief as I saw my building looming in front of me, like some sort of sick mirage. I nearly collapsed once inside the flat door. The first thing I kicked off, unsurprisingly, were my shoes.
I never want to put shoes on again . . but I HAVE to in about half an hour as I'm off out for dinner.
* By the way, why is it that people sunbathing in Kelvingrove Park are seemingly incapable of clearing up after themselves? i know people are lazy and all, but it's a public place for heaven's sake! Me and my flatmate were walking through it this morning and the main hill people tend to sit on was completely covered in rubbish. You could barely see the grass! What the heck!!!