Yesterday hereabouts was – in old money – 90° of the Flaming’eckanoids and as humid as the inside of a racing camel’s socks. Far above my comfort levels. Moan moan moan, whinge whinge whinge. Yet still I heard people using the phrase “glorious weather”! Ugh!
Even this morning at 0500hrs was warmer than shirt-sleeve weather. I took a trip down to the old Neolithic water tap for the makings of coffee…
…and then went for a stroll-ette and a sit-upon, to watch the local wildlife, such as tis.
That is when the question imposed itself upon me. I was sat sitting on the bench in the company of the geese and two local swans (one relatively innocuous, one “Ms Nazty”), when I noticed that Mr Relatively-Innocuous was asleep, and yet gliding slowly around in circles – and on occasion leaving a trail of bubbles.
Do Electric Swans Dream of High-Fibre Curries?
Whether they do or do not, Ms Nazty was keeping her distance – and one eye on the chances of a pugilistic (self-defence in my case) encounter with me.
I have the ladies and gentlemen of the Goose Trust trained now so that I can walk past without their shouting ‘Awoogah! Awoogah!’ and leaping into the water or taking flight. We just hiss a little at one another.
This morning they were eating grass for breakfast, and were insinuating themselves a little more closely with every goose-step. I didn’t raise my camera because I didn’t want to jeopardise our arrangements.
One of the boats on the moorings has made some very pleasant arrangements for secondary transport (I am assuming that this is intentional, and not the aftermath of some horrid accident)…
It’s been a couple of years since I last saw this boat. It’s probably been up the Limpopo River inbetweentimes.
Tis p-p-p-p-persisting down with “the rain, Myfanwy, yes indeed” at the moment…
…but at least it is not quite as over-heated and yucky as was yesterday. I may break out the umbrella soon, and go for another strollette, since the rain tends to keep folk mostly on the plains of Spain, or indoors.
Early mornings is good, in summer. In winter of course I just get into my Blue Peter-recommended cardboard box, make myself a couple of air-holes in the sides, and hibernate.
Not long now.
Chin-chin, chaps and chapesses.
Ian H., Goose-Whisperer.
I too, am not a fan of summer heat, never have been … bring on the snow, I say. 🙂 … love the swan fart-propeller. 😀
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You CAN beat a good swan, but there must be no witnesses.
Silly pair where I am moored now have produced no fewer than seven cygnets – they just looked blank when I cruised past asking them if they had ever heard of condoms.
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Indeed, it’s the 21st Century for goodness sake! 🙂
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Are swans propelled by methane? An interesting thought!
However, I don’t like the hotness, either. Shut the windows to stop the hot air coming in, close the curtains and blinds to stop the sun coming in. Only open up when it’s cooler in the evening. I feel like a vampire
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Agreed! I have never understood folk who seek out the hottest of climates and then stretch out on the beach like steaks cooking – insanity! Pure insanity! Might as well stick their heads under a grill. That said, tis damnably difficult maintaining a balance between my preferred pasty-pink/white and manufacturing sufficient Vitamin D…
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That sleeping cob looks like a dead beluga!
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I don’t think it was really asleep at all but just faking it in order to not have to say ‘good morning’ to me. Unfriendly things, swans. 😉
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Puts gas turbine under a new light, dammed clever these senior swagnets, don’t yuh know, what, what, monocle exploding.
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Well, having seen a swan so obviously powered by rectal methane, I must say that I both wonder about and worry about the necessary seals… Not those kind of seals, the flipper-clapping trumpet-blowing sort, but gas-tight and water-tight seals, fighting various opposing pressures…
Of course, tomorrow morning I shall take matches, and see what happens under “ignition” conditions. Swans in Spaaaaaaaaaaaace…
…and me in gaol! 😉
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Bwhahahahahaha!!! 😀
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I cannot imagine being in that metal box in 90 degree heat. I hope you are very careful about hydration. People die of heat stroke. Perhaps not in England, but here in the US where the mercury enjoys extended stays in the three digits, it inevitably kills people sitting quietly at home. Not just people doing work outside at 3pm. Lots of hydration. Take a cold shower or bath. Ice to the arm pit or groin.
Sorry. Had a distant relative who died of it. It worries me thinking of that boat just broiling you.
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It was unpleasant (mostly because I intensely dislike being over-warm or hot) but I do a lot of preparation when the forecast promises conditions like these, and the boat’s actually not bad if I use all tricks available to me. 🙂 Tis complicated a little at the moment by the need to keep the towpath side sealed up to avoid the coughs, sneezes and manifold diseases of the C&RT-encouraged exercise nutjobs and social strollers, but I open up both ends of the boat, open the side hatch to the canal, get the heat-reflective blinds down early on the sunny side and then put up with the noise of the electric-fan extractor vents. It’s not restful, but it works!
For me the most difficult part is staying up “late” enough to gain advantage of the evening cool-down (if any) – since I am a morning fiend these days! I am also quite seriously addicted to cold showers, which helps (I just hope that nobody hears the chimpanzee-shriek noises that I make in them). The boat roof is white, and covered in raised solar panels which gives about half of the boat a double-roof with air-gap.
That all said – it’s still ugh! I am not built for warm weather, let alone (relatively) hot. 🙂 The Sun scares me, I’d rather that our local ball of nuclear fire were ten or twelve light-minutes away rather than just eight! I have the soul of a Pierson’s Puppeteer…
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I’m glad you have an plan and have it running for the heatmare. I also hate being hot.
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A wee bit too hot for us all but at least today I can open my window – 5 days of the council stripping off sections of my road and tarmacing them, and with a Welfare Unit (air conditioned transit van covered in advertising – more advertising than the tory Brexit tour bus) in which they took their first break before starting, one every hour thereafter, with an hour lunch in the middle and off at 15.00 hours for the day. The plant thingy with detachable bits for various use thereof, had one of those audible backing up signals that sounded like a distressed seagull and when you consider it was doing a continuous back and forth movement, was most irritating. I assume that they have finished my small close because the road block at the beginning of the road has disappeared now. Your pictures look so peaceful even with the odd bubble of methane!
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Welfare Units eh? I remember the days when the “welfare unit” was the cab of the Bedford lorry (and probably the nearest hedgerow if caught short). The new joke is ‘How many Welfare Units does it take to change a lightbulb?’…
On an optimistic note, those beepy-beepy reversing things are supposedly being phased out in favour of something called “white noise” – I think it’s just a general hiss. Apparently it’s more effective at getting people to take notice, since we’re all so fed up with beepy-beep beepers.
There are a few moorings that I frequent where the local farms – twenty-four-seven businesses these days – have beepers on everything. I have to make a Yoda-esque effort to filter them out and ignore them. I have to just cross my fingers that my hind-brain is still listening for all of the other noises that I WANT to hear, such as activity on the towpath at 0200hrs or whatever!
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