I’m going to own up to something very shocking. It’s something that as a Brit you should never admit. Something that’s utterly taboo. Admitting it will see me ostracised I’m sure but I must get this off my chest.
I hate this weather. There, I said it. It’s in the late 20s round here but feels like the early 30s. That to me is just too hot for a country that doesn’t come with air con everywhere as standard.
My favourite place at the moment is the local supermarket where I know someone must feel the same way as me as they’ve cranked the air con up to Arctic levels. I’m making any excuse to head over there. I just had some milk from the carton we just opened I had better go get some more. The children are enjoying bananas and we’ve only got six left. We could do with more soy sauce.
Hubby jokes that during the summer I walk round with a cloud over my head and would love it to rain every day. That simply isn’t true. For me 25 degrees would be perfect. It’s hot but not too scorching. Your house won’t feel like a sauna. I really don’t want a washout summer, but why do we have to have these periods of extreme heat. I know in Australia they regularly hit 40 degrees so my complaints would be a total joke to them. But I’m simply not programmed to handle the heat.
It makes me feel claustrophobic and makes doing housework nearly impossible. Sitting in a pool of your own sweat while trying to watch TV is also hardly a relaxing evening. Then there’s the night. Trying to get to sleep in a heatwave is a nightmare. I splash myself with water, get the fan on and sprawl out panting like a dog.
I was pregnant last summer and that cranked my irritation up a notch. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I told hubby I felt like I want to rip off my own skin I was so uncomfortable. I sat like a beached whale trying to focus on work and failed miserably.
Trouble is hating heatwaves is such an un-British thing to admit. As soon as the sun is out an army of Brits march to the beach, parks are packed with people sunbathing and everyone is having a barbecue. Because we get so little sun we chase it like moths to a flame.
I met a mum pal the other day. It was 28degrees and blazing sunshine. We both had sweat dripping off our faces as she turned to me and said “isn’t it lovely?”. I wanted to say “no, absolutely not, it feels like I’m living in a volcano”. But I replied “oh yes such a brilliant day to be outside”. Really I wanted to be at home with my head in the freezer.
Then there’s my children. I make sure we get out and about whenever we can. I am an obsessive suncream applier. Trouble is my toddler hates it, as I discussed here, and my baby isn’t keen either. Cue lots of crying and tantrums. I worry when they’re in the heat for too long and I’m constantly trying to encourage my toddler to play in the shade. She’s not phased by the heat at all. Then at night I panic about their rooms, which don’t dip below 26 degrees in a heatwave. Should they be in nappies only? Just a vest? A thin sheet?
Today I will mostly be eating ice cream and ignoring the housework as I try to keep my cool.
Later I’ll be off to the supermarket to stock up on cous cous.
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