LIKE many Scots, perhaps even other northern Europeans (though I think it’s mainly we Celts), I’ve a complicated relation to the Sun. I agree it can cheer a place up, brightening even the dingiest slum. But why must it be so blasted hot? (On a separate note, how does it still exist at all? I know it’s arguably quite big, but surely it should have burnt itself out by now? Whole thing is a pile of nonsense. It must be kept going by elves with matches. To clarify, as I do not want to sound ridiculous: elves in asbestos suits.)

This week, we were reminded, if we ever knew, that there’s a condition called “summer sadness”, a version of Seasonal Affective Disorder usually associated with winter.

Last week, as it happened, on a discussion forum (I lurk on these but consider it beneath my dignity to contribute), I was surprised to find many people saying they disliked summer and the warm weather.

I’m a bit like that, but not entirely so. I like spring, autumn, and some winter. Obviously, part of the problem is the Sun which, like the Earth, hates me.

How I envy these porcelain-skinned Nordic types who, like us, suffer the pallor of winter but, unlike us, brown nicely in summer.

We Celts just burn red, the skin colour despised by all humanity. Needless to say, the Lord blessed me with a ruddy complexion and, for a long time, a non-spotty form of rosacea, largely occasioned by irresponsible advertisers persuading me to drink alcohol.

Another major drawback of summer is that it encourages public shorts-wearing and the moral degradation that invariably follows.

Worse still, lower class males often take their “taps aff” at the first appearance of the Sun, leading to horrible sights that can upset decent ratepayers trying to enjoy a fish or smoked sausage supper as they walk down the street.

If you watch footer on TV, you may have noticed that ludicrously obsessed supporters – ultras and so forth – often remove their tops, like berserkers ready for battle. While this is fine for foreign persons, who tend to be tanned and toned as a result of eating salad and suchlike tripe, British – particularly Scottish – fans often look awful: podgy and pale. It’s no wonder that violent police forces in Third World countries like France, Spain and Italy frequently attack them with truncheons.

In the meantime, this news just in: summer’s here, as the song goes, and the living is uncomfortable. Not only that but, at the time of going to press, there ain’t no cure for the summertime blues.

THE best thing you can do in life is try to escape it. But it’s everywhere. It’s like that old TV series, The Prisoner. You’re governed by forces beyond your control. You have to wear a peculiar blazer.

Think I’ve overplayed that analogy. But you realise the significance of what I’m saying. At the time of going to press, our means of escape include drink, drugs and hiding under the bed. But, increasingly, humanity is pinning its hopes on … Virtual Reality (VR).

I know. You groan. It’s like genetic health cures and those weird specs with the internet on them that we were all supposed to be wearing by now. Never amounted to anything.

But a report on the Insider website suggests something really unreal might be on the horizon. Swedish “immersive tech” company Warpin Media has developed a headset that takes punters to the country’s High Coast which, as you know, is on the Gulf of Bothnia, in the Ångermanland province, notable as a centre for research projects into post-glacial rebound and eustacy, the phenomenon by which land rises as glaciers melt.

Sorry, got carried away on Wikipedia there. Now, I’ve a wee thing for Sweden. Every night, I pray to Jehovah the Merciless for a red house in the forest next to a lake. And that’s where this headset, according to Insider’s report, takes you. With this contraption on your onion, you feel immersed in idyllic, tree-filled landscapes. Do ye, aye?

As I’ll never visit Sweden – I find public transport intolerable and can’t drive on the wrong side of the road – this could be the solution for me. Unfortunately, the headsets are currently only available to businesses and, worse still, are linked in with breathing meditation and “wellness”, a word that makes me sick.

Coincidentally, reports in that UK this week said VR was being used in hospitals to distract patients from the awful things happening to them in surgery. Rather than being sedated – too time-consuming and costly nowadays – their heads are shoved into one of these sets, lessening their anxiety and horror. Immersive realities mentioned included rollercoaster rides and pop outfit Queen playing Bohemian Rhapsody. I’d rather watch my own knee being removed.

In the course of writing this article I have terrified myself about the prospect of escaping from reality. What if someone ties your shoelaces together while you’re “away”? No,

I’m now convinced we must remain in the real world – hiding under the bed with a crate of whisky, a torch and an annotated copy of The Hobbit.