Blaise Tapp: Never mind the sunshine it’s time for having a rain dance

Hotter than Monaco, apparently – although I doubt you’ll see as much bare, sunburnt flesh on display in the mega-rich micro principality as we are witnessing in every high street, park and supermarket right now.

The minute that the mercury rises above 20 degrees Celsius, millions of us take leave of our senses, remove most of our clothes and head for the nearest packed beach and lay claim to a square foot of sand that we call our own for the day or until they we sunstroke.

Although I’d vowed not to, I am afraid to say I have already started moaning about being too hot, despite the fact it has only been warm enough to wear shorts since the end of May, which really was a miserable old month – the washout that was the King’s Coronation will live long in the memory.

Whinging about sweating from every orifice and being so hot that my teeth itch, does, on the face of it, seems rather ungrateful when we only get about six weeks of summer a year, but I realised long ago that I was designed to thrive in damp and cold conditions.

Anyone like me born within 10 miles of the cobbles of Coronation Street should face the fact that they are better suited to a pint of a best in front of a roaring fire than they are sipping a pina colada while overlooking the Med.

With that firmly in mind, I have spent the past two decades, or since the sensible, grown-up section of my brain became fully formed, coming up with ways to keep out of the full glare of the sun. It was easier when I had some hair, but now I must remember to wear a baseball cap when I leave the house in the summer if I want to avoid third degree burns on my bald patches.

Despite the many benefits a glorious summer brings, I did a dad dance for joy when I was caught up in an unexpected downpour while wearing my shorts and polo shirt the other day.

The feeling of cool rain on my sore red skin was bliss and I was only sorry the mini storm was over before it started.