Tag: heatwave

Imagine

An ice cold drip runs off of an icicle that hangs from our porch roof. It is as strong as it is fragile. It’s very make-up is running off the end. Cool water that is being warmed by the air around it.  

The short sharp gust of cold air as you open the fridge. It chills your face and arms. It makes you want to pace the freezer aisle of the local supermarket. Maybe you could set yourself up there with a chair and a book. How long before you’re asked to vacate?

The blessed invention of air-conditioning. Hotel room, shop or in a car, it cools the skin to the bone. You feel ice cold. Chilled. Frosty. 

Jump into a deep pool and have your breath wrenched from your lungs. There is no heat here. Only frigid waters. Glacial with the impact of your body. Wait only a while to adjust and feel the heaven in its icy grip. 

The first sip of a drink with ice cubes in it. Intense on your lips, the temperature holds the promise of a break away from the surrounding humidity.

Jumping through a sprinkler.

The first lick of an ice lolly. Blue raspberry flavour. 

A less than warm shower.

A snowflake finding the tip of your nose.

The mist from a breaking wave upon the sea wall. 

Winter’s first snow fall.

An Icelandic waterfall crashing down upon rocks sending a spray of water your way.

Thick droplets of rain pummelling the pavement.

A water balloon bursting over bare skin. 

December winds that bite at your cheeks.

Frost on freshly cut grass.

A well aimed snowball to the face.

Imagine. 

All part of the narrative

If you have read my last few blogs you may have seen how excited I’ve been to set up our pool for the summer. We are yet to use it properly and with the impending heat wave of doom it feels like we are halfway to actually surviving it. 

The thing is, when you own your very own property things can change really quickly. Obviously I don’t think there is a curse placed on mortgage payers, but it can be a kick in the gut (and wallet) when something unforeseen happens. Usually for us its technology, last year we had a 6 month struggle with our boiler. 6 months prior to that, our dishwasher upped and fucked off due to a internal complication I think it made up quite personally. 12 months previously to that, our fridge freezer decided it wanted to shuffle off its mortal coils. And fun stuff like that seems to happen a lot when you have zero back up plan and really would like to have some savings building up. This week, our cat decided to check out our pool and punctured its air-filled dreaminess. Mr W and I have spent all of 30 minutes in its cool depths, all of those in the shade. Frustrated is not the word. We are yet to find the tiny hole that is deflating our hopes and dreams. 

The problem with owning a house is there’s no landlord or council that has a duty of care and maintenance to come and fix said items. I mean, if you rent and burst your swimming pool and Landlord Larry will fix it for you, well quite frankly, when can I move in? 

It’s a delicate line to tread when owning your home. On one side there’s the fear of something breaking and checking the sofa for coins to fix the problem. The constant cycle of decorating and learning about electrics and plumbing and a whole host of DIY skills. We had a flood during the lockdown of 2020 because the pump for the electric shower decided it needed a laugh. The flood rained down through a newly installed ceiling and we haven’t been able to fix the pump whatsoever. It sits waiting for the next big project. If I had decided to kick the pump around the garden like a football I’d understand. If I had run the dishwasher for 24 hours straight for a month I’d understand. But technology truly has a mind of its own. 

The pool however, did not decide to deflate. Our ginger Tom saw to that. He is like a moth to a flame when it comes to water. He likes it colder than cold, fresher than fresh and will nick your tea or wine if unattended. The boy is a liquid lusting whore. I could scream and shout, I actually want to, but I learned years ago that our animal friends, our pets, companions, and family are a blessing. If he had sat on that decking, drawn out a claw and run it down the plastic much like someone would key a car, then I’d be having words. However the simple fact is, he wanted water, he went for it. It is his quirk. Much like our other cat’s quirk is to want attention just as you are falling asleep or the other’s is to claw his way up your leg to say hello. Much like Sylvester Stallone in ‘Cliffhanger’. They don’t do it to annoy us. Nor to irritate or make angry. It’s just them. 

I have lost patience with previous animal loves and you can’t take it back. I regret how I used to tell off our dog about peeing in the home. She wasn’t well and I wish I had been kinder. I used to get exasperated about the mess. But the truth is, I’d do it all over again for more time with her. The same goes for our black moggy who we lost in 2019. She would scream at me from the kitchen counter for food. All day she’d cry. And I would cry back at her. ‘Yes, yes, in a minute.’ What I would give to hear those sounds again. What I’d give to have learnt more patience back then. But now, I live with those lessons and what it has taught me. 

The truth is, I let our cats get away with murder, they are pampered beyond belief and I think thats because they’ll never understand just how much they mean to us so I find other ways to make sure they know. They’ve been there every single day during lockdown. They give me cuddles on my bad days. They give me a reason to get up. They’re true companions. 

So when one yaks up on the floor, I’ll sigh and grab the kitchen towel. When there’s a puddle of pee because our tiled floor is better than the flower beds and grass, I’ll shake my head and get the mop. Because we brought them into this home, we chose them. They are entitled to be who they are. I can have the patience for them and their quirks. 

The same goes for the quirks of this house, technology has a shelf life. It shouldn’t but it does. A burst pipe, dodgy electrics and so on goes part and parcel with the mortgage. Would we have rented if we’d have realised all this in the beginning? No, of course not. Owning this house means our hard earned savings went somewhere and will one day pay for our retirement or travelling or even be handed down to our kids. It is something worthy of being patient about. However frustrating and hard it can be and often is. 

It was our choice to buy this place. The same as inviting our furry pals to live with us. It’s all about choice. So when something bursts, breaks or fizzles its electrics out of whack I will have a moment of disbelief, that’s only natural, but I’ll also take what I’ve learned about patience and carry on. It’s all part of the narrative. 

Now I need to find the pool puncture so I can sigh in a very chilled manner!

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Be silly

I am a 34 year old woman. 

And 3 years ago I got ridiculously excited about finally using a blow up whale in a pool in Alcudia. Mr W and I bought it on our first trip to Spain back in 2014 and like a mini-curse, the heavens opened and he stayed in his box. 

2 years ago, England was navigating its way through a mega heatwave and lockdown measures. We cooked by day and sweat by night. By August 2020, I finally relented and bought a big blow up pool. I bought an electric air pump and some chlorine tablets. This bad boy would make everything more bearable. The day the box landed on our doorstep, the rain came. It brought wind and chilly temperatures and away the box went. 

Last year, the UK had one week of hot weather and the box became dusty in the garden shed. 

Now I remember the joy of being poolside in 2019. I remember the beads of water falling from my hair, down my back, leaving an icy cool path in its wake. I remember blowing up Willy the whale and Mr W laughing at me. I also remember him jumping all over him in the pool. I remember how freeing it was to have fun that many think should stay in childhood. 

Willy is up in the suitcases with the flippers and snorkel gear, just waiting for our next trip poolside. But today, with a free-ish weekend that will see the UK bathing in another heatwave, I have freed the blow up pool from its box, broken the sellotape that sealed it, and set the pump to work. I have prepared a cabana style area at the end of our garden. There are sheets shielding us from pervy eyes and a table to hold our drinks. There is ice in the freezer and gin in the fridge. There is a projector waiting to whirr into life so we can sit in the cool water and watch a Disney film. There are lights that will be turned on when night falls and a smile will remain firmly fixed on my face. 

I am a 34 year old woman. There are more silly times ahead. 

Feeling hot, hot, hot!

Why, why, why is it so much harder to cope with the summer sun in England than when we travel the world?

Today in the South-East of England temperatures have reached highs of 32°. The hottest day of the year, so far. The news keeps saying so far because a) they love the phrase, the feel of competitiveness and b) we haven’t hit the full stride of summer yet. 

So why is it so hard to keep cool here?

Are our homes built differently?

I know when I visit Spain there is little to no worry about high temperatures. They have cool tiled houses with windows flung open being enough to cool the sweaty brow. Well here, we have an entire tiled bottom floor to our home, and even though it does feel cool, it does little to prevent the heat rising to the floors above. There’s also the fact that the last time we visited Spain we had a huge pool and once you start to feel the heat you can dive in, cool off and emerge refreshed. It’s a lovely cycle that I long for. In 2020, we had an obscenely hot spring and summer so I gave in and bought a pool. Only a big inflatable type thing, 8 feet by 4 feet I seem to remember. It took a month to arrive and I kid you not, the day it arrived on my doorstep, the rain came and the sun was not seen again for over a year. By the time 2021’s sun came around we had one week of it and then nothing once more. Said pool has remained in its box for nearly two years now and it’s only been the last two day’s worth of heat that has been longing to put it up. Forget nights in front of the television, I can see Mr W and I lounging in the pool, music playing and a class of something cool and tasty in hand. Ahhh true bliss!

There are so many times in my travels that stand out as really having felt HOT. So hot you think you are going to self combust, melt and shrivel like a prune all at the same time. 

During a Nile Cruise in 2010, we had some free time from all our excursions and decided to spend a little time on the top deck of the boat in the Egyptian Sun. As you came up the stairs to the lounging area, you came face to face with a bar. A fully stocked bar. Oh yes! We squirrelled away to two loungers at the rear of the boat so we could take in the sights while sailing. When getting drinks, we noticed a thermometer that read 50°. FIFTY! Absolutely insane and unheard of in England for sure. And yet it was manageable. I remember being under dappled shade on the boat, but one week later in a luxury hotel on the Nile I lay in the direct sun and even though it was hot I didn’t feel the creeping suffocation that heat can bring. 

Suffocating heat can be found in the rainforests of Queensland, Australia. We were visiting Patronella Park. The temperature was in the mid thirties. But it was the humidity that found its way to our skin and heads. The park is built from a vision to create gardens surrounding a castle and homes in which José Patronella would live and thrive with his family. It is an absolutely astounding place with sky reaching bamboo, lush planting, a waterfall, fountains and huge expanses of land to roam. I remember the day so clearly. We had arrived in a mist like rain. Soft but strangulating with its heat. I was enjoying the visit. It was like a secret garden for the sub-tropical world. But the humidity was unbearable. Rain in England mean’s water on skin, cooling down, moaning about your washing on the line. This rain meant sweat would be pouring off of your skin, heating up your body and creating a sticky layer of clothing that clung to you. I honestly think it is the most uncomfortable I have ever felt. It is a shame  I look back on that day wishing I had ignored the clinging of the weather. Patronella Park is stunning and should I return I will prepare better. There is something to be said though, that the lushness of the gardens would not be without the warm, wet conditions. 

A week later in Uluru, I found a different kind of heat. Dry! At 45° it was crazy to feel more comfortable than in Queensland. It was hot for sure, but an air conditioned coach or taking a moment in the shade was all the relief I needed. For the first time since arriving in Australia two weeks prior,  we found an afternoon to sit and relax. Our accommodation had a pool and shade. It was definitely time to stop. Much needed! The pool was small, with only 8-10 loungers surrounding it and there was a huge water dispenser, the kind you usually see in offices, just behind my bed. Paradise! Out of nowhere a humongous gust of wind swept across us, upending loungers with their towels into the pool. The wind felt as though someone had turned on a hair dryer. The intense heat was over as fast as it had arrived. In England, the wind usually means cool relief. There it brought only more temperature. I still don’t know how you would prepare to challenge that kind of weather. I guess it would have served me better to jump in the pool. To emerse myself in the cool water. 

Maybe water is the cure, Spain certainly has it right. In fact, José Patronella built his park around Mena creek with its cascading waterfall and flowing river. His Spanish mind knew the cooling waters would be key to keeping sane in the Queensland temperatures. We found sanctuary from the heat in the afternoon rains in the Dominican Republic. The temperature was not too hot in relation to Australia and Egypt, but it was definitely a sweaty heat. It clung to you. It makes body lotion sit on your skin and not be absorbed. Looking back on photos, I have a constant sheen on my face. Beautiful! It was easy to avoid the rains when at the hotel, a quick sprint from the pool to the covered restaurants or back to the air conditioned rooms was all it took. However, one afternoon, we decided to go to a local bar for food. It was made of dark wood and glass with a huge fish tank in the middle. It was a cooling place. A real bolthole from the weather. From heat and rain. Looking outside it was as though all the water on this green earth had started leaking from the sky. The landscape had blurred with his downpour. And then the leak was patched. Gone as if nothing had happened. It was a 15 minute walk back to the hotel and the sky was formidable. The grey clouds above, pushed the humidity down on us mere earthlings and were steaming us slowly. We came to the edge of a pathway at one of the very deep curbs you will find in the Caribbean. The roads had become temporary rivers from the recent downpour while the pavements promoted security from above. It was only when a splashing game erupted between us that we realised its true potential. Fun and refreshing. It was only when we walked through the hotel’s entrance and everyone turned to stare that I noticed that there were leaves and specks of dirt over our bodies. A present from the puddles that had proven their worth tenfold. 

So there we have it, water! It can both be a curse with its hot clinging nature and a giver of life. A cooler, refreshed life. In the most recent years where heat is absorbed by our bedroom carpet and in turn, turns the room into an oven we have taken to setting up a floor fan, having a late night cold shower, rushing to stand in front of the fan and letting it freeze the water droplets on our skin. Last night I lay in the dark feeling the familiar lethargy of the English summer. The ceiling fan wasn’t doing much to help and we hadn’t yet got the floor fan out of his lofty prison. Mr W turned to me in the darkness and said ‘Don’t you have a spray bottle up here?’ Why, yes I do. It is for the succulents I have. I asked him why, ‘Well,’ he said, ‘why don’t you spray it up above us and the fan will do the rest.’

Game. Changer!

For 10 minutes I sent the mist up to the dark ceiling and felt the cooling embrace of the water as it fell. Absolute bliss! When Mr W returned home from work, we fled to the bedroom once more and continued misting the room. The relief was instantaneous. Obviously, once cooled there was a tug of war over the spray bottle, itchy trigger fingers and much laughter. 

If I’ve learned anything from looking back at the experiences of extreme heat on my travels, it is to make the best of an uncomfortable situation. Much like the phrase, ‘learn to dance in the rain’, I think to complain is fruitless, we need to jump into the pool, puddles and cold showers. Make the most of it. Laugh and enjoy.