Hampers and prosecco, or blankets and pre-mixed tinnies: let the picnics commence! | Hannah Jane Parkinson

Lolling about, twiddling grass between one’s fingers, peering at friends over the rim of your sunglasses – boy, it’s been a while

As I write, tabloid newspapers are full of headlines about a forthcoming heatwave. Newcastle is set to “boast scorching temperatures”with “a maximum of 21C cited”. Oh. So it’s… a warmwave? It’s five days of room temperature. Still, it’s an improvement on the current week’s weather, which is thunder and lightning and all things frightening.

Twenty degrees is, at least, just about, picnic weather. And, boy, it’s been a while. I understand the visceral reaction some people have to the word “picnic”. It can summon up the thought of a lot of faff; easy-to-lose bits and pieces, or perhaps Enduring Love (and nobody can argue that a hot-air balloon accident or a stalker sounds like fun).

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