Friday Ten: Ten Songs For A Sunny Day

I'm steadfastly ignoring all claims to include Dodgy...

1. Going Out - Supergrass

2. Daytripper - The Beatles

3. Dry The Rain - The Beta Band

4. ABC - The Jackson 5

5. Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks

6. The Circle - Ocean Colour Scene

7. Whatever - Oasis

8. I Get Around - The Beach Boys

9. Time Of The Season - The Zombies

10. One Love - The Stone Roses

And The Living's Easy

Large McDonald's strawberry milkshake.

Paul Simon's Graceland on the headphones.

Sun in the sky and barely a breeze.

I love summertime...

....Even when it arrives in March...

And The Living's Easy

I'm almost loath to write this, but (whisper it) it seems that summer may finally be here.

So far, July has been an almost complete washout here in Angus. By my reckoning, there have been two days of sunshine so far this month, with the remaining 25 days marred by heavy rain, howling winds and towering black clouds.

But this morning I awoke to glorious sunshine, a cool and gentle breeze and blue skies as far as the eye could see, dotted only occasionally by fluffy white clouds.

By acknowledging that summer has begun, I've probably gone and jinxed it, and my planned lunch hour in Duthie Park will instead turn into me seeking refuge in the car as hailstones batter down on northeast Scotland.

Scotia's Joy and Pride

Today is a Bank Holiday in Aberdeen, so I have been spared the hour-long commute to the Granite City.

Unfortunately, this does not mean that I am spared a day of work. Mrs Wife and I spent Saturday in Edinburgh shopping for new furniture that is due to be delivered today. All of this furniture, consisting of a new bed, two bedside cabinets, two chests of drawers and a desk, is flat-packed and designed to be built at home.

So this afternoon will be consumed in a flurry of allen keys, odd-shaped pieces of wood and a mismatching number of nuts and bolts.

Although a certain percentage of the weekend was spent trailing the soul-sapping aisles of Ikea, it was not a complete write-off. I made it to a comfortable Edinburgh hostelry to watch Rangers dominate the final Old Firm match of the season, providing more than a glimmer of hope for the next campaign.

I bolstered my CD collection by a further three albums, and spent a lazy afternoon lying in Princes Street Gardens enjoying the sun.

On a sunny day, Princes Street Gardens is one of my favourite places on the planet. Like Central Park in New York, there is something satisfying about sitting in the peace and quiet in the sunshine, knowing that the city goes about its business just yards away. And even NYC can't boast a view of Edinburgh Castle.

Lawnmower Man

Jim, the all-seeing individual in charge of the universe, is smiling on me this week.

Mrs Wife and I have been on holiday since Good Friday, and the sun has been beating down ever since.

Ideally, this would mean spending a whole week relaxing in my new hammock in my new garden, but things don't always work out in an ideal fashion.

Firstly, I HAVE a garden, which has vast lawns at front and rear. And this means that I have an atomic shedload of grass to cut.

So, at the helm of a bright orange device that looks more like a floor buffer than a blade-spinning destroyer of weeds and Mrs Wife's flowers, I began battle with the grounds of Dungroanin' first thing this morning.

And it's pretty hard going. But although I expected to resent the activity and the drain on my precious holiday hours, it was actually almost enjoyable. There's something almost therapeutic about going head-to-head with nature in the glorious spring sunshine.

Of course, I looked cool whilst engaged in this tidying up of the ranch - the Magic Tune Box pumped the sexy soul of Amy Winehouse into my lugs as I worked, and my new wraparound shades protected my peepers from the sunshine and the flying dandelion heads.

And now Dungroanin' is ready for a visit from the Inlaws. Luckily, Mrs Wife's parents will get their first look at Chateau Jock in glorious sunshine and with the garden looking as good as is ever likely.

But, if future battles of the lawn are to be tackled in the appropriate fashion, I'm going to need to invest in some serious military hardware. So I think I'll take some advice from Eric.

Spring

Spring is in the air in Argyll today - the sky is a brilliant blue and the sun, although washed out, is at least gamely trying to warm us up.

Mornings like this always remind me of my days as a paperboy in the village of Edzell, seen here in the photo.

During the summer holidays back in 1996, which I seem to remember as a never-ending summer of sun, I actually looked forward to getting up and heading out to deliver the news to the sleeping folk of Edzell.

At 6.30am, there was still a chill in the air and dew on the grass, but not a single cloud in the sky. And as I wandered or cycled around the village, reading the sports pages of every paper I delivered, it was plain to see that the day was going to be a scorcher. By the time my round was completed at 8am, the village had awoken and my parents were off to work. The great unfillable vastness of a seven-week holiday stretched before me.

Practically that whole summer was spent playing football and swimming in the river by day. In the evenings, the attentions of my group of friends would turn to music, primarily The Beatles and Oasis, who played at Knebworth that August, a concert broadcast live on Radio One.

It was also the summer of Euro 96, watching Scotland draw with Holland, lose to England and beat Switzerland, only to miss out on the next round by a single goal.

No summer since has been the same - since then, I've spent every summer working. Full days can no longer be spent lying in the sun or recreating the mercurial talents of Brian Laudrup on the local football pitch.

Perhaps it is true that schooldays are the best of your life - not necessarily on a day-to-day basis, but in the comparitively commitment-free way in which you can live your life at 16.