I'VE been in trouble with friends and relations over the weekend for complaining about the sunshine.

People everywhere are out cooking their milk-white skin in the burning rays and you can see from the pain on their faces and the sweat on their brows that there is only one thought in their minds: IT'S TOO BLOODY HOT.

The smell of burning flesh is everywhere, house windows are thrown open to burglars and in a very British way we try to make the best of it.

So why can't we just admit defeat, put a cold compress on our heads and wait indoors for autumn and the rain of falling leaves?

We are so frightened of wasting the few sunny days we have that we end up feeling guilty about not enjoying them more.

We have a barbecue and dine out on half-cooked meat, choke on the smoke and compliment the chef.

Or we hear there might be a sunny day, so we pack the kids into a car and spend half the day boiling in traffic queues on overburdened motorways.

Frankly the sooner British people realise they are not made for warm weather the better. We just don't know what to do with it.

When the sun is at its hottest, what do people in Mediterranean countries do? They find a darkened room and they sleep.

When the sun is at its hottest over here, what do we do? We decide it's hotter than we're used to so we make the whole thing worse by going out and lying in it or head to the beach where there is absolutely no chance of any cover from it. How dumb is that?

The sun does something to the British mind. It convinces British men of a certain age and social class that it is a really good idea to go bare-chested about town. In so doing they reveal not only their tattoos but also the years of pot-bellied alcohol-fuelled excess. Nice.

My optician has warned me in the strongest possible terms not to venture out in summer. He is concerned my eyesight could be permanently damaged by some of the hideous colours people wear.

The rainbow does not have as many colours as some people are prepared to wear out into the street in summer. It is baffling. They are like the kind of people who shout a lot at parties because they are HAVING FUN. How depressing.

I was very cheered up on Saturday by the sight of a pale and wafer-thin student walking along in the middle of the afternoon heat, wearing a long black coat.

He looked ridiculous of course but there are degrees in everything. And dear reader that long black coat is not even on the same scale as some of the rainbow-coloured monstrosities on display over the weekend.