Wearing shorts all summer

I notice some of you are holding off until October 1st before putting the the heating on. Similarly, since April, on my daily walks, I have been wearing shorts and T-shirt, in a combo that makes me look not dissimilar to Marlon Brando in his Apocalypse Eating Now years. But this morning it feels as though I may have reached the endgame.

Strangely, all the other walkers I pass seem to be ridiculously over-dressed, considering I'm the soft southerner. This is never more obvious than when I bump into one of the rambling groups for the elderly of Shropshire. I say "I bump into", but of course I really mean Bobby, who likes a good long run-up before barrelling through any group, back legs skittering and tail helicoptering furiously, before he backs up and comes back through for a second go, trying to land his spare. This usually leads to much middle england consternation and tutting, at least until Anne's mum recognises her son-in-law.

It's a lovely summer's day, and these people are invariably dressed accordingly. Winter walking boots, hat, waterproof leggings, spats, and enough gore-tex to get them to the south pole. To be fair they do walk too slowly to get a sweat up - when 20 of them encounter a stile, the first two over set up forward camp and settle down to wait for the rest.

Anyway, I take a more minimal approach. I'm a free spirit. I go where the sun takes me. I like the feel of the wind wafting through my parts as I swing through the nettles. And as a result, here, at the dog days' end, I have a deeply wrinkled redneck and brown forearms and shins that would win me the best farmer-tan of the year award at the Iowa State Fair.

In short, in shorts, I look a right twat...

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