We spend the chilly, dreary, dark days of winter hoping we
get a decent summer, and then when it comes it can be too much. Luckily, here
in the North West, the temperature touched about 32 degrees centigrade, which I
think is slightly more comfortable than the hotter southern areas. Small
mercies. Is it safe to say the heatwave has gone yet? I’m fine with the warm 22
degrees today offers, along with a fresh, gentle breeze. I’d had enough of
feeling sticky and having streams of perspiration running down my back. Anyone
wearing glasses may relate to the annoyance of them sliding down their nose,
frames sticking to their cheeks and being a thorough nuisance. I would take
mine off except that I can’t see a thing without them.
The garden has had it for this season. Vibrant colour of
vital blooms looks parched and neglected for all my efforts of conserving water
from the kitchen to use outside. Being away for two separate holidays with only
one week at home in between is the cause of ruin. Normally we might expect two
days of sunshine to be counter-balanced with three days of constant rain. Not
this time, no rain for ages and what came wasn’t enough to stop the damage.
Within the next few days I will attempt to tidy out the dead stuff and make an
effort for autumn and spring. I can live with whatever happens in my small
garden. I feel sad for the farmers who are trying to make a living. Some
counties have declared a drought. Not us, though, yet.
I think I was the only person carrying a cardigan into
Bloomfield Road football stadium at the last home match. It was an incredibly
hot day and I was in shorts, sandals and my team shirt, but we sit in the shady
and cool west stand so I anticipated shivering. Shady it was, as always, but
cool, certainly not. It was roasting, not a breath of air. Away fans in the
sunny rows of the east stand must have been melting.
The heatwave of 1976 was widely mentioned in the media as a
comparison. I remember the warm sunshine day after day, seemingly forever and
walking up and down Blackpool promenade in platform sandals, flared jeans and
cheesecloth shirt knotted at the midriff. Oh I was at the height of fashion in
those halcyon times.
With global warming, summer heatwaves are to be expected. It
is up to all of us to do what we can to lessen the effect, and to look after
ourselves and each other when the temperature rises beyond comfortable.
I found this on PoemHunter.com,
A Wail of the Heat Wave
The usual thing it used to be
Our summers to decry,
Because they were too wet, you see,—
We longed to have them dry.
But now for months, from morn till night,
We've basked in Sol's bright rays ;
Yet few you'll find who show delight,
Or speak in terms of praise
Of these aggravating, irritating,
Half-cremating, wrath-creating,
Mercury-raising, semi-blazing, scorching summer days.
One feels much like a jelly-fish,
Or limpet washed ashore ;
If this is getting what we wish,
We'll crave for it no more.
Each man you meet reviles the heat
In none-too-classic phrase ;
To be polite, one cannot write
Exactly what he says
Of these hot, oppressive, fierce, aggressive,
Sweat-producing, fat-reducing,
Liquid-yearning, throttle-burning, parching summer days.
O, for a trip to either pole,
With Peary, or with Scott!
Where icebergs rear their white forms tall,
And heat waves trouble not.
A month or so 'mid Arctic snow
Our drooping hearts would raise ;
And soften down the angry frown
Which everyone displays
These roasting, boiling, toasting, broiling,
Record-breaking, sweltering, baking,
Ultra-torrid, beastly horrid, melting summer days.
William Baron, October, 2010
Thanks for reading. Stay cool. Pam,x
