I feel this needs to be included in the 2012 London Summer Olympics as a sport.
I love picnic. And the English? Well, they KNOW how to picnic. Go into any outdoor store and you have your hiking boots and poles and maps and all-weather picnic blankets and baskets.
We ain’t messin’ around here with no plain picnic. It’s like the Snoop-Dog of the picnic. Fo-pizzle.
This past Sunday I got to go on my first picnic of the season. It was sort of my idea (later blamed as my idea) as anyone who reads this blog finds that I write about two things: Running and Fundraising. This is because my whole WORLD has been running and fundraising. Sometimes you need a break! So someone suggested Blenheim and I thought, “Well, wouldn’t this be a nice picnic?”
So out we went. And, it was surprisingly nice, provided the sun shone directly on you. If it didn’t, it was cold and people stared at you funny. After running the distances I’ve run, endured what I’ve endured, to all those people who looked at us as we huddled on blankets and ate quiche I say to you, “Pansies.”
Sure, we could’ve come in March with all the other people. Or maybe in summer, when it pretends to be warm and we all remove our jumpers symbolically for 10 or 15 minutes. But no, we were hardcore picnickers.
So to anyone out there I cry, “Who is with me?!” Who will standing in the mud and rain and pass amongst you the strawberries and creme? Who will sit at the bottom of the ocean and signal out for your Pimms?
I will. Will you?