Britain: "It's Summer!"

It's officially no longer Winter. As March arrives, us excitable Brits don our coats and cups of hot cocoa for beach balls and sunglasses. Most of the time, we'll freeze half to death just to catch a ray a sun before the wind takes over and sends shivers down our spines. But we don't care - we're British, and as far as we're concerned, it's Spring Summer!

The definition of working on a tan for us stands somewhere along the lines of taking our shoes and tops off for a few golden moments to bathe in glorious, yet still incredibly cold sunlight before putting them all quickly back on as we realise we're going to catch frostbite before a speck of our pale, white bodies turn a little chargrilled.

Hypocritically, today I went for a beach run down by Bournemouth beach for around an hour. Most of the time, I ran in a vest. Inevitably, after half an hour or so, I put a jumper back on to finish my run back to my halls, and although (for a short while) a run in the sun felt fantastic, I won't be doing it again in a hurry.

However much we will deny it, us Brits just love to get out in the sun.
For us, there is no such thing as Spring. Spring is simply the turnover period between Winter and Summer. Us Brits hate Spring; as soon as Winter has come and gone, it is safe to say we only have one thing to look forward to - the Almighty Sun.

It is only a matter of time before holidays are booked, vests are fashioned and the gym becomes a haven for sweat and fat blokes trying for that iconic beach body (which, even if obtained, will soon be destroyed with a shed load of beer and ice-cream in the sun anyway).

For now, let's not ruin the dream. The sun is shining, the beach is only a stones throw away, and as far as I'm concerned, Summer has arrived.