Overdoing the exposure

8:26am Wednesday 14th May 2008

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MAY is definitely my favourite month, made all the sweeter this year by the fear that it might never come around. We seemed to have been plunged into some kind of nuclear winter since, ooh, last June, and I'd begun to wonder if we'd ever see the sun again.

Such was my delight when we actually got some decent weather last weekend that I forgave the blackbird singing in the dead of night from the TV aerial directly above the bedroom.

Instead of pulling the sheets up over my head and praying for roof-climbing cats, I pulled on some clothes and cycled to the gym.

I thought I'd stepped into a Disney film. There wasn't quite a bluebird on my shoulder, but cherry blossom lined the village lane, a squirrel skipped in front of me as I pedalled through the bluebell woods, there were bunnies everywhere and - fantastic reward - a beautiful little stag was standing in a field, wondering what on earth the crazy woman was doing cycling past at this hour of the day.

Something like that should keep me in a good temper for weeks, and indeed it does help; but it is unfortunately not only Mother Nature that puts on a display when the sun comes out, and the rest of the show is by no means always quite so pretty.

From the office window you can see them all heading into town, the pitiless sun highlighting the contours of their bingo wings, lardy backs and piercings.

One sweaty, shirtless, individual put his can of lager on the kerbside, turned his tattoo-infested back to the street and peed in a doorway as his lady friend waited nearby in her sugar-pink glitter-patterned cropped T-shirt, her belly stud and her muffin-top pants. Nice.

I know it's been hot, but why is it that some people feel the need to strip off regardless of whether or not it is advisable to do so? If they have no thought for the impact they have on onlookers, could they not at least reflect on the fact that they may well be giving themselves sunstroke and prematurely ageing the flesh they appear to believe is so attractive?

I'd turn away from the window and open a newspaper, but it's not just unsightly bodies that have been on display this week. I'd already thought I knew quite enough about the life of the leading human rights lawyer Ms Cherie Booth, and much of what I did know, I assumed she was less than keen on sharing with the world.

Granted, there was that potty photo-shoot for a women's magazine, when she posed on the Prime Ministerial bed and let "lifestyle guru" Carole Caplin apply lippy to her ample mouth; but, apart from that, I thought Cherie couldn't stand the press and didn't want them to know about her private life.

Now, thanks to her memoirs, we know a heck of a lot more about Cherie than we used to and, arguably, rather more than we wanted to, from keeping the chill out at Balmoral to telling Princess Margaret exactly what sort of partnerships could take place between two men.

Does Cherie really need to do any of this? She surely isn't short of a few bob. It seems bizarre that she should be telling everyone all the private business she was so keen on keeping from them not so very long ago.

I wonder how Tony reacts to it all?

If he ever wants to get away from the public glare, I know just the place. There's a very quiet cycle path in York where a passing deer is all that disturbs the peace. Well, give or take a bonkers woman or two - and he should be used to them.