A few nights ago, I was astonished at how cold it felt. The night sky was devoid of cloud and the chill very evident. Since then, the high pressure over England has brought hot sunshine with it, just as the weather people predicted. As I write, the open window next to me is letting in a cool draught. Given how hot the sun is this morning, it really does illustrate how powerful sunshine can be.

I should actually know this anyway. As a young teenager I went on a school skiing holiday to Austria. Of course we had a great time, but although the air was very cold at altitude and the time of year for snowfall, the sun was always baking hot. I remember seeing young women sunbathing in their bikinis despite the wintery surroundings. So strong was the reflection of sunlight from the snow, that after my return my parents didn't recognise the suntanned me when I got off the coach.

Once, as I walked our dog along the old railway line running round the south of Swindon, I became a bit hot in the sun, and although the temperature was below freezing, I felt fully comfortable in a tee shirt. A woman passed me in a fur coat, hands wrapped in a muffler, astonished that I wasn't suffering from hypothermia.

I should have remembered all of this. I should have remembered the news about ozone layers and deadly ultraviolet. It's my own fault. It was such a nice day that yesterday I wandered down to the grassy hill south of Croft and indulged in a spot of sunbathing. Only for an hour. Don't want to get sunburnt or anything.

Help. I have been lightly toasted, both sides.

Playtime of the Week

Walking through Croft Wood on the way home I passed a tree that I hadn't noticed before. At first glance it seemed eminently climbable, and since no-one was about... Well, I discovered I'm not as young as I was. Going up wasn't too hard, the almost dead trunk had a convenient ladder of boughs to scale, but I found coing down a little awkward. I just wasn't as sure-footed as I had been as a child (there is of course an easier way to get down, but that's generally painful).

Having descended, I suddenly realised there was an audience. Converging pairs of dog walkers looked at me like I was a mental case. A man of his age? Climbing trees? Tut tut tut. All part of growing old disgracefully. After all, that bloke from the Rolling Stones fell off a tree didn't he? At least I can still climb. Just.