“SO.... if you saw a man put on sunglasses would you assume he was doing it just so he could watch you jiggle?”

“God no, what kind of sick degenerate would do something like that,”

my horrified and hot friend said.

There was an awkward pause.

I felt relieved that the other women I had been ogling probably wouldn’t have been suspicious but on reflection I should have removed my shades before asking the question.

As she edged her way out of the room while shielding herself it made me think of what our extended summer means for romance.

Sunshine means more daytime dates and actual activities.

In winter most dates take place at night in a cosy pub or restaurant.

The first glimmer of sunshine and I find potential “special friends” are suggesting trips to the zoo, the park or the beer garden.

This invariably means going out weekends when ideally I like to sleep for 16 or 17 hours a night.

Even when I worked shifts I disliked daytime outings on weekdays.

I could go out for a summer picnic if I was on lates but how could I enjoy it if I knew I had to work was lying in wait for me.

If I was on earlies and up at 5am I would be no good to man nor beast by the time I left the office.

I realised I must really like a brunette after she called me at 9am to suggest a trip to the park on a Sunday and I did not unleash a barrage of swear words.

Instead I found myself agreeing to meet up.

She was looking stunning in a figure-hugging dress as we walked along the waterfront and rode a little scenic train.

I have requested this attire several times since but she seems reluctant to allow it make another appearance in case I think she does not own other clothes.

I have noticed women seem to flourish in the sun with slinky clothes whereas many men seem to favour shabby T-shirts or heaven forbid going topless, turning heads and stomachs in their wakes.

The re-emergence of sandals is also troubling.

With pretty paints on their dainty, well-moisturised digits girls can justify this kind of unforgiving footwear.

However, I would never inflict my scaly talons on the general public and I fail to see how other men can be deluded enough to think their hairy toes are getting positive reviews.

Never is this truer than at the beach but I felt obliged to go in the interest of developing relations with my slinky new pal and see her in swimwear.

“Do you think this is too revealing?”

she asked self-consciously about her new bikini.

“Not at all,” I said slipping on my sunglasses.