WARM weather sees some get out the paddling pool or barbecue. But to me, it’s a time to stop paying through the nose for gas when the sun is right there.
Solar ovens are a waste of cash. Just position tinfoil and leave a chicken in the magnified rays for a couple of hours. Unlike many roasts it won’t dry out and stays good and moist, helped by a convenient rain shower.
There are drawbacks, like ending up in hospital with gut pain that just won’t stop, but the kids recovered quickly enough to enjoy six solid meals free from the NHS and during that week they weren’t at home wearing out the carpet.
Speaking of kids, do they ever stop pestering when the ice-cream van comes around? I won’t waste money on mass-produced ice-cream loaded with sugar and mostly air, so I came up with a healthier alternative.
I told my kids Mr Whippy is a child murderer who’ll keep them in a cage until he eats them alive. Now when we hear his chimes they hide in wardrobes, crying silently. Problem solved – economically.
Of course, the British summer is unreliable, but rain can be the money-saver’s friend.
Rather than using expensive tap water I fill empty bottles on days of high precipitation using a funnel, taking a tip from survivors of shipwrecks left drifting on the high seas. Avoids wear-and-tear on tap washers. That’s 14p a year you’re getting back.
And don’t despair if you’ve had to cancel your summer holiday. For as long as I can remember I’ve been treating my family to a beach holiday at home, by which I mean my own home.
Shin over the fence of any construction project or the local nursery school at 2am and collect sand. Because this is a common mineral you can take as much as you want and it’s legal.
Spread it across the bathroom floor to make a beach, fill the bath to make the sea, trap a seagull and stick it in there and you’ve got all the joys of Ilfracombe without some vile individual leaving a turd in a Burger King box.
It stays there all summer, even when the children’s visitation fortnight’s over, while I relax in a deckchair making the noises of waves with my mouth, occasionally adding a pinch of salt for that sea air feel.
I can’t imagine anything more relaxing, if the fucking seagull would just shut up for a minute. I’m not feeding it sardines. They’re my tea.