British beaches are packed. It’s true. I saw it on the news. Margate, Bournemouth and even the shingle beach at Sheppey are crammed full of milk bottles that have been isolating for months. Reporters stand in front of cameras with the throng visible over one shoulder and make predictions about how many have descended on that stretch of not quite yellow sand. Hundreds, thousands and even millions have come to their local beach to worship the sun. I can see red shoulders here and there; balding men’s pates are starting to glow, and legs are beginning to resemble the hot dogs you get in jars. Tonight, there will be much ‘ouching’ as after-sun is slathered on in significant quantities.