Hot Hot Hot

You know when you’ve reseeded your lawn and need to water it every day, but you’re almost sure that the inevitable hosepipe ban will be falling upon us soon?


This hot weather is starting to cause all sorts of chaos. I’m having to hop from foot to foot like one of those lizards in the desert because the patio is getting too hot to stand on when it comes to pegging washing out. You always have to be moving. Always in motion. If you do that there’s a chance you’ll not hear the underside of your feet sizzling away like meat on a griddle.

Not only that but it’s too hot to sleep upstairs at the moment. We’ve had to make alternative sleeping arrangements. Carole’s found a cool spot in the back bedroom and I’m downstairs. Both of us are sleeping about a foot from a constantly running fan. And, obviously, just sleeping atop bedclothes entirely in the niff is out of the question because we have a cat that loves to nibble at things. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have to go to the doctor’s because I’ve got some sort of an infection from when the cat nibbled on my pee-pee.

What we’ve also discovered is that the black out curtains, which are exceptional at keeping light out, are an absolute bastard for keeping the heat in. If you want to walk past the bedroom window when the curtains are pulled, you almost have to wear one of those silver heat suits so beloved of Volcanologists.

It’s set to continue, though, for another couple of weeks.

It can’t go on much longer than that because then it’s time for Wimbledon and what’s Wimbledon without matches being called off for rain? Those people train day-in and day-out to pull those covers across the courts as the first sign of drizzle. It’s a British tradition.

Hot weather cannot continue into Wimbledon fortnight. We’ve already let too many Bank Holidays have decent weather this year.

We need to be more vigilant.