Simply Sue: The Scents And Sounds Of Summer
Seated here beneath the trees, the gentle breezes bear the delicate fragrance of....paraffin. Sue Papworth paints a wry portrait of the English summer scene.
Ah, Summer! To sit out in the garden in this barmy, sorry, balmy weather, surrounded by the sounds of summer, what could be nicer! What memories they recall!
Seated here beneath the trees, the gentle breezes bear to me upon their wings the delicate fragrance of…paraffin, paint and engine oil? What on earth…? This is meant to be a nostalgia piece about the distant hum of lawnmowers, the clop of shears, the scents of honeysuckle and the twittering of tiny birds!
What you actually get out of doors is the perfume of a million barbecues and Black and Deckers, with Dads being manly in daft pinnies, frazzling bangers to a crisp. Basting them with aviation fuel if the pong’s anything to go by. Or, if they’re into Haute Cuisine, I guess they’re caramelising things with a blowtorch.
I am reminded of a camping holiday in France. The family in the 8-room tent next door, possibly with sauna, swimming pool and staff flat, had linen napkins, china, glassware, and half a cow slowly rotating on a spit. (It smelt of wine and herbs, though, not lighter fuel.) We were eating, as I recall, baked beans off plastic plates, and they gave us that pitying look the French reserve for the English when it comes to food.
The beans were a bit of a luxury, as it happens. On holiday, we generally ate sand widges, made with real sand.
Ah yes, as the sizzling of sausages is drowned out by the roar of power tools, the wine of strimmers, the cursing of chaps who can’t start up the motor mower, the tiny birds haven’t got much hope of being heard. They’ve mostly gone off coughing, their tiny ear-plugs wedged in place, in search of a cure for laryngitis. Tough work, this summer lark.
And he’s got it going! The motor on that thing sounds like it could drive a pretty big boat, once it’s got its indigestion sorted out. I know that enthusiasts race power mowers - I don’t think you actually have to cut the grass in nice stripes at the same time, but I wonder if they’ve ever tried towing water-skiers? I was just remembering something about that, but it’s been blasted clean out of my head.
Ah yes, Summer! The uproarious sounds of chain-saws and pneumatic drills, the subtle aroma of flame-throwers, tar and incendiarised burgers!
There’s nothing like it!
