Let's face it, Aussies love to rant about how the Brits as colonisers were really not all that forward thinking. You sail out of smoggy, lice-infested, poverty ridden 18thc London and find a place with sun, fabulous beaches etcetc and decide that it would make a great place for prisoners (actually, i'm not sure that this isn't a tactic still employed for young offenders today). 'Where's the logic?!', all you crim-progeny are crying. Smugly.
But really, you kids from Down Under are WRONG. Have you been outside lately? This is Spring. Spring is meant to be all balmy and mellow, floral even. And I find that if i go outside today I am instantly bathed in sweat. Worse, because the aircon in my office has been sucking the liquid out of me all day. The prospect of an infernal aussie summer terrifies me even more than going home does. And that's a lot.
It all started with Easter. Much as our European friends call it Paques or various other shoutouts to Jesus, we heathens the other side of the channel stuck it out with Easter. Eostre, pagan goddess of sex. Spring is sprung, and we're all trying to get laid. Why else do you think it's all about bunnies, eggs and chicks? You wouldn't have caught Jesus gorging himself on Cadbury's Creme. So, I turn up in Perth in April, where the leaves are turning brown and it's still hotter than a Brit summer. Easter, followed by winter and now there are Xmas cards in the shops and it is, I am informed Spring. And I am so confused.
But still, Xmas in the sun should be novel. Bringing a tree inside to protect it is probably quite apt, with the fire season. And I am really looking forward to seeing Santa in boardies..