The weather in the UK has been determinedly following its recent topsy-turvey course – routinely confounding expectations and continuing to be predicatably unpredictable. Last year’s dryest winter in aeons was followed rapidly by one of the wettest summers on record. This year’s arctic spring and early summer has finally given way to… yes – you’ve guessed it – a heatwave unsurpassed for more than a decade. Well – this seems to me to have provided us now with pretty much the full set!
With temperatures edging into the 30s Celsius for the last few weeks or so and with humidity high the working weekdays have been tough on those of us who have to commute, as well as for those who must work in the metropolitan connurbations. The evenings have brought little relief with the thermometer remaining stubbornly high, causing restless nights and tired and cranky mornings. Weekends – which one might expect to be a riot of joyous summer activities – see some of us at least simply trying to catch up with sleep and relaxation before we start on another hot and humid stretch at work. Those of us for whom school terms have finished can at least go to work in shorts and sandals. For this relief…
We are – gripes not withstanding – immensely grateful that after a considerable number of years of doing without we have finally been gifted a proper summer. We would – however – not be truly British were we not to complain about it. A treasured memory from my youth – in a year in which the customary hard winter was followed by a deeply disappointing spring… when the sun eventually came out for a period – and after a mere three days of pleasantly clement weather – the tabloid headline that shrieked in two inch high letters:
“73 degrees – No relief in sight!”
That’s Farenheit of course – not quite 23 degrees C!
Got to love those Brits!
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