14 June 2023 , 19:56
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With family in Texas and work and business that takes me to Africa, I’m no stranger to dealing with intense heat.
Dallas in the summer is regularly over 100 degrees, so much so that you can fry an egg on the pavement.
Africa, whether it be a visit to Ghana, Gambia or in between, is scorching.
I’m pretty good at acclimatising to them all.
So what is it about the mercury-busting heat in Britain that makes life so unbearable?
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I know I shouldn’t complain. It’s been one of the rainiest years on record in the UK and we’ve all been pining for some sunshine for ages.
But this past week with temperatures up to 28 degrees has been almost too hot to handle.
I know I’m not the only one feeling hot and bothered. The weather is all anyone, in my neighbourhood anyway, seems to be talking about.
“Hot innit”, random strangers will offer while dragging their overheated bodies up the street. “Tell me about it. I’m melting,” I usually pant in return.
With those words, the seeds of a five-minute, sometimes 10-minute conversation, with someone I’ve usually never spoken to before, are sewn.
I’m not going to lie, there’s something strangely soothing about having a good old moan-fest about the British weather, particularly when it’s a heatwave.
It often goes: “Did you see that Royal Guard collapse at Buckingham Palace?”, answered with “Yeah, what do they expect dressed up like that in this heat under those big bearskin caps.”
Or, “I can’t get home because the heat has caused a problem with the track. One bit of heat and everything grinds to a halt.” Just a couple of my favourites.
This obsession with the weather doesn’t seem to happen anywhere else I go. I guess they’re built to handle these things better than we are.
Anyway, all I can say is, enjoy it while it lasts. As my new pal Marge said to me outside the newsagents, we’ll be sorry when it’s gone.
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