IT is simply Sod’s law that the two tiny weeks I select to fly off to the Spanish sun Scotland gets a heatwave.
While I’m in Costa Blanca it would appear Edinburgh has transformed into Costa Reekie.
Social media means that any time of day I can dip my toe in the waters of home and find out what is happening.
So far I’ve seen 14 barbecues, 12 paddling pools and nine cracking sunsets over Porty beach.
It has thrown up a little food for thought on the fashion front.
Us Scots aren’t really suited to dressing for summer. I think it’s because we seldom see the sun so the minute it surfaces excessive amounts of peely-wally skin are exposed in a vain attempt to go one shade up from see-through.
Levels of common decency are cast aside in the quest to stay cool as Sky News freaks everyone out with varying degrees of heatwave alerts.
This struck me as I stood scantily clad in a supermarket off the beach. Would I really stand in a queue at Scotmid wearing a bikini? The very though makes me shudder, so why is it ok in Spain?
Simple, it’s geography. Separated by several hundreds miles it feels safe to strip off.
However should I saunter down Salamander Street like that it would certainly scream street walker. So be wary about what you wear in the sun. You don’t want to send out the wrong signals.