Sun Walking

Mad Dogs and Englishmen: I think I may have discovered why the poem came about.

This morning, walking my bit along Oxford Street, I found myself drawn inexorably to the meagre strip of sunlight to be found on the roads’ very edge, and I am not usually a sun-seeking person. My entire walk consisted, unconsciously for the main part, of getting as much sunlight as I possibly could. As I was hardly awake – no, let me rephrase – as I was somnolent, I didn’t recognise what I was doing until after my first coffee of the day kicked in, which was just now, but I was sun-walking. My body was unconsciously trying to soak up as much vitamin D as it possibly could in the shortest amount of time.

We think the English are mad for sitting on our beaches until a state of lobsterhood has been reached, but here it seems to be a biological drive for Londoners to obtain as much sunlight as possible, to store it up in effect, to get them through the winter months of no ‘D’. The sun here isn’t out often, and isn’t strong enough to burn – well, not lately anyway – so overexposure isn’t an issue. But underexposure is. I’ve heard several people refer to fears that this winter, the incidence of depression and mental illness will skyrocket as there hasn’t been enough sunlight this summer to provide Londoners the protection they need against the winter SADs. And my body is doing it’s darndest, by-passing my head completely, to get enough sun.

Very weird.