The Heat(wave) Is On

NEIL: It's well hot.
JAY: Might be too hot.
NEIL: ... Might be.
Blake Harrison and James Buckley, The Inbetweeners Movie, 2011

It's Sunday night, and Croatia and Denmark are fighting it out for a place in the next round of the World Cup. A lightning start to the match, with two goals in the first five minutes, had set a precedent for a tight affair. Time was running out, as both sides were unable to find the breakthrough to send them through to the quarter-finals. As I watched on, a minuscule drop of sweat formed on my brow and it threaded its way through my eyebrow and onto my nose. Perhaps it was the tense nature to this high-stakes, yet actually quite disappointing, game in Nizhny Novgorod, or the fact that at the time of watching I was thinking hard about what to write on 'Absolute Shambles' this week. Writer's block had begun to set in, as my mind was focused on too many things, with the heat rising steadily. Then it hit me; it's too damn hot.

I'm confused too

I am sure you are all aware that the United Kingdom is in the grips of a heatwave, and it is awfully warm out there. The sun relentlessly blazes in the sky, roads melt away and the grass turns a sad shade of yellow due to drying up fast ad becoming all stressed. You might have put too much fertiliser on your lawn though, causing nitrogen levels to spike up and ruin grass' ability to take in nutrients. Hey, I did learn some things in my time as a greenkeeper! I would love to talk about nitrogen and pH levels all day, but that would just distract us all from what really matters right now; the bloody heat. You know you're in for a scorcher of a day when you go into the kitchen on Monday morning to prepare a protein shake (I do love my upper body training at the start of a week) and find the back door open. It's an ominous sign, and one that shouldn't be ignored. A day of sweat, flies and thoughts of going on a brief vacation to the Alps is the itinerary of the day.

All that hard work over the winter... SMH 

The British public sure do love to have a conversation about the weather. It is the ultimate fallback when the situation starts to creep towards the territory of 'terribly awkward', as we casually slip in a comment about 'how lovely it is out there today'. Our British nature compels us to answer with enthusiasm in most cases, happily retorting that they took advantage of the nice weather by doing some quick gardening work or taking the kids down to the local playground. Suddenly the conversation is alive and well again since there are now topics to be discussed. Thank goodness for the ever changing climate of Great Britain. Even when the cold sets in and we dress in so many layers that we temporarily become onions (or ogres, or even cake- everybody loves cake!), the weather still pops up as a matter for discussion. Yet those days are behind us for the moment, as it's now the time for vests, shorts and the divisive ankle socks. Fashion is tough, and everyone is a critic. I can feel them silently judging me behind their sunglasses, tactically used to criticise passers-by.

It might be fair to say that a few of us are wishing we could turn back the clocks to a few months ago and endure the bitter freeze that was the 'Beast from the East'. You all remember it, right? By the end of February the Met Office had issued a red snow warning, indicating a threat to life, as the freezing air coming over from Siberia brought with it temperatures that dropped below zero and snowstorms. Storm Emma was the greeting Britain got for entering into March, and before we knew it was all gone... well, for about a week or two. That 'Mini Beast from the East' was predicted to cause more chaos over the weekend of the 17th/18th March, yet fell flat since it was much warmer. The wind was certainly a factor to be concerned about, but it didn't stop this guy from dressing up as Roman Emperor Augustus, watching the last three games of the Six Nations and having plenty of alcohol. That right there is the pioneering British spirit. Thanks to the warmth of alcohol, the first Emperor of the Roman Empire survived to see his 23rd birthday.

A Roman and a Frenchman walk into a bar

You do realise how terrible that would be, right? No, I don't mean venturing out in chilly temperatures in a costume with no sleeves or lower body protection; I mean embracing another cold snap. First of all, it would mean that all the time and effort we spent on preparing our summer collection would go to waste since all of us would have to fish out the undershirts and dig out the boots thrown to the side when the temperature rose above 10°. It would also mean, for the few blessed with a working fire place, a mad scramble for wood to keep the house nice and toasty. When the house becomes so cold that there is no need to put anything in the freezer, a roaring fire would be the perfect way to keep the spirits, and body temperature, up. Perhaps the biggest cause for concern would be that, if we suddenly did have a cold snap, it would be a horrific example of climate change. When you go from 27° to sub-zero in a day or two, then that must be a sign of how badly the human race have screwed up. However satisfying it would be to use this as evidence against the arguments of the idiotic deniers, an inflated ego can't stave off rising sea levels for long. A small reminder to do your bit for the planet.

For now, let us move away from the depressing impact our species has had on the lump of rock hurtling through space that we call Earth, and get back to the warm weather making us all sticky and awkward (there's a sexual reference in there somewhere, I'm sure). While it can be unbearable at times, the sunny days before us are now amble opportunities to get out there and stretch our legs a bit. The very thought of going for a walk, let alone leaving the house in the first place, is enough to make some people cry, especially with the added risk of unattractive sweat patches. Seriously, they are a bitch! They form everywhere; armpits, neckline, and don't get me started on the ones on the back and shoulders if you've been carrying a bag around. Absolute nightmare. The easy solution would be just to remove all clothes in the middle of your walk and go about your business in your underwear. It's a very tempting thought, but with people already judging everyone else's fashion choices then it just encourages body-shaming. Just on a personal note, those guys are arseholes. There is no 'perfect' body that everyone needs to be a functioning member of society. I was happy when I was much bigger, and I'm happy now that I'm thinner. Ignore the hate kids; don't let their own insecurities get you down.

I approve this message 

The horrors of sweat patches, unfortunately, are just one horrendous consequence of the humidity, and is probably not even the worse one. Call me an old fart, but sunny days mean kids come outside screaming. They just won't stop, even when a parent adds to the noise by shouting at them, throwing in a threat of not being able to stay up and watch Love Island or whatever trash kids watch nowadays. If I was still a kid, I would just keep on screaming to save myself the torture of having to watch a bunch of shallow airheads try and find 'the one'. It won't last, dude; cut your losses and just enjoy the time on a tropical island. I am well aware that kids are prone to making lots of noise in the evening once school is done and the sun is shining (doesn't stop them from making a nuisance of themselves in the cinema when some of us are trying to watch Han Solo and fan service fly around the galaxy) but it is a slight inconvenience. Yes, we were all kids once and all of us have been guilty of disturbing the neighbours, but some of us are trying to sleep. By sleep, I mean lie awake on top of the sheets sweating up a storm and wondering why you weren't born in a country that had cooler temperatures all year round. Canada beckons to me, and not just because of the Toronto Raptors or that new law legalising a certain substance... I digress.

While I'm hovering around the topic of sport, the warm embrace of July means that Wimbledon is back on our screen. Prepare for two week of adrenaline pumping tennis, as some of the finest athletes in the world skid across the well-preserved court in their all white attire. With the heatwave predicted to go on for another few weeks, the tournament will be graced with sunshine rather than the customary shower that turns up and ruins everything by throwing the schedule into confusion. As long as everyone stays hydrated and Roger Federer has a tactical shirt change in the middle of one of his matches, I'm sure the masses at Centre Court won't mind the odd bit of sweltering heat boiling their pot of strawberries and cream. Will the possibility of a topless man from Switzerland draw viewers away from the World Cup? Probably not.

Sorry Roger

With the evenings keeping up with the trend of being uncomfortably warm, sleep/sweating on the sheets is very much a struggle. Not only do you have the screaming children running amok, but the plethora of open windows invites hordes of winged insects to make their way inside. They buzz around your head, mocking you as a swipe from your hand is expertly dodged; they whizz around in the air with glee, which is the insect equivalent of giving you the middle finger. I've never really understood why these flying nuisances look for solace in our humble abodes, especially since they have the freedom of the outside world. I feel like they're wasting their potential by ignoring the possibilities of gliding through the air, and instead opt to land on coffee mugs and TV screens. Perhaps they're perverted and hope to catch someone off guard when they're 'exposed'; after that thought I doubt I could ever look at a fly the same way ever again.

At the moment, I am certainly taking full advantage of the weather that has blessed/cursed the British Isles. The popup tent that I have deemed my own 'Fortress of Solitude' has been put to use twice already, since a warm summer evening is the perfect excuse to go outside and either lure away an overly-friendly New Forest horse with olives (true story), or stay up until 2 in the morning listening to popular songs from 2010. Summer sure is great, and even fitting in a jaunt into town means that I can turn on a trusty podcast, stretch my legs and enjoy the warm embrace of the summer. As I work on my professional skills to prepare myself for my return to the adult world, that chance to enjoy some sort of freedom is one I don't want to miss. I am a fan of walking long distances in one fell swoop, and my experience with the London 2 Brighton Challenge reaffirmed my belief to take advantage of the beautiful scenery surrounding us all. Yes, it can be horrifically boring at times, but when the sun is shining brightly in the sky, then sitting inside all day might just a slight waste of time. Unless the football's on, then maybe I can grant some leniency.

Nature sure is wonderful

From this rambling post on the heatwave that is currently keeping the British public very toasty, it is certainly evident that there are plenty of positives and negatives to take away from all of this. While we all hate getting sweaty and having sodden patches etched onto our clothing, the warm weather is an encouragement to go outside and get some fresh air. To just have a lie down with a good book, some easy-listening music or even one of those handy disposable BBQs is a wonderful way to relax. The noisy kids from down the road might be running around and screaming as if the Apocalypse was upon us, and those flies linger menacingly around your icy-cold beer, but those are the inevitable consequences of such marvellous weather. Humid evenings make sleep a more troubling process, but the prospect of camping with friends and enjoying the company of others means it is nothing to worry about. Of course, when the temperatures drop I imagine we will all be demanding a return to the heatwave of June/July 2018. When that time comes, focus on the positives of the winter months instead, yet for now enjoy this balmy, uncomfortable, but absolutely fabulous weather at this very moment in time.

Head down to that coast

Ben G 😁 xo

P.S. That quote at the start is the best scene from the whole of The Inbetweeners Movie in my opinion, and perfectly sums up my point of our love-hate relationship with the weather. Just because I can, here's a GIF to show it in all of its glory.

Perfect

P.P.S. It may just be coming home... let the memes keep coming!

Sorry America