The sun shone this weekend.
It was like Jesus had arrived, sprinkled the nation with gold dust, and then made everyone drink from a chalice of pure MDMA.
It was a bank holiday yesterday, so Sunday was the new Saturday, and so we took off most of our clothes and lay, legs astride on a blanket on the common All. Day. Long.
We illegally braiied meat on one of those disposable barbeque thingies, drank pinot grigio and lapped up the sun like a right bunch of motherstickers.
It was amazing.
And now it's raining and I want to leave again.
Above is a dude who has come back from an all night trance party at The Church, bought himself a McDonald's family feast, peeled down his lycra Union Jack onesie, to reveal a white chest that he wishes to expose to some UV, while passing out mid-meal, leaving discarded drink to the side and the offending aforementioned bag between his legs, which are slightly a-kimbo.
Now, he might not have actually been at The Church, but there's a 99.9% sure-as-fuck speculative chance that he was.
That, in a nutshell, is the average day/night for a Caucasian male living in Clapham. In case you wanted a lesson in twentysomething British debauchery.
Just 24 hours of sheer, beautiful, uninterrupted natural sunlight, and everything for that one day, is absolutely amazing.