The character of my weather posts is changing. Weather is now news! On the BBC World Service, they reported yesterday that 40 people in France had died of the heat, and that 2 people died at a charity walking event in the Netherlands (plus another 20 or so keeled over in a coma and other heat distress). The NL have now cancelled a 4-day charity bike event, due to the weather. The NL have measured temperatures since the 17th century and this is the hottest heat wave they have ever had. In Britain, an inflatable maze flew 150 feet into the air, killing 2 people and severely injuring others, because the air was so hot the whole thing turned into a hot-air balloon, and the tent pegs anchoring it didn't have any purchase in the dry soil.
When I look out of my window, I see my baked so-called lawn. About three blades of dry straw struggle for life in an expanse of dry, tamped earth. Nothing grows: there are no weeds! I'm amazed the shrubs grow as they do. We flee the outside for the inside.
My daily rhythm has changed subtly: you have to get things done early, when it's still a bit fresh; in the middle of the day, you can only veg or go shopping (especially in the frozen and chilled aisles); and then in the evening, I get a second wind (normally, I never work after 6 pm). Also, you have to make sure to go to bed early because you're liable to wake up hot in the night.
The sky is very hazy, grey-blue. This morning there was a promise of coolness and clouds but no, it's back to over-30 degrees and sun. Life is sort of in a parallel realm. It does not feel normal. This is northern Europe, after all. I have additional showers in the day. I wear shorts and strappy tops and velcro sandals. Even a T-shirt causes sweat marks under the armpits within an hour. My feet swell throughout the day.
The weather is not just a visual event, observed through my window. It has physical effects. My arms are very brown, as is my neck. I was imprinted by the tan ideology of the 70s so, although I realise brown skin is unhealthy and carcinogenic, I can't help finding it aesthetically attractive. T'h is brown as a nut, and t'12 glows golden. T'8 is covered in freckles.
The air stands still. Shade makes little difference to the heat. Driving is worst. There is no aircon in our car. You have to wind down all the windows and open all the doors and the boot for about 5 minutes before even attempting to get in. The steering wheel is hot to the touch. The air blown in through the ventilation is straight from the Namib. I push a towel under my T-shirt to avoid sweat marks from the seat belt. Even so, I need to towel my torso dry after a drive, and fan myself with the T-shirt.
The smallest exertion causes massive sweating. I prefer bike riding; the breeze feels good; but afterwards I totally sweat.
In the afternoons, there is the constant jangle of the ice cream van.
Another physical effect is on perishables. Food goes off very fast. We find bread covered in mildew and stinky left-overs from the night before. I cram everything into the fridge. The garbage smells and attracts sheeny emerald flies.
English houses are not built for this weather. The brick soaks up the heat and retains it. We have a hot-water cistern in our bedroom. At night, an electric fan I nicked from my horrible institution blows air onto us.
It's making me realise more than ever that survival, for John on his desert island, is as much about managing the heat as anything else.
And all you lovely commenters: I will reply soon!! :-)
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