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Ian Hutson

Any of you trapped overseas in any of the more moist and over-heated hell-holes of the world may well laugh, but this is England. In the nineties, and as humid as a camel’s underwear. It’s just not right.

That was the temperature inside the Cardinal, but it was also – due to a cunning use of doors flung open, extractors and fans blowing and heat-reflective blinds – the temperature outside.

Ugh.

The read-out on the heating controller in my cabin at the back of the boat was in the same, disgustingly warm, neighbourhood…

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Tomorrow, v.depressingly, is forecast by Her Majesty’s Meteorological Office to be a couple of degrees Fahrengezundheiting warmer still.

I just don’t “do” these sorts of temperature/humidity mixes.

Moan moan moan. 😉

By the way, any of you insufficiently polite enough to avoid noticing and/or remarking upon the slight grubbiness of the old-fashioned thermometer to the left of frame should be advised that the item is a family heirloom. My late father bought one such for every room of our house-du-jour in nineteen-seventy-two, which makes this one on the order of forty-eight years old. For obvious reasons I am not going to be too energetic when cleaning near the frangible elements… 😉 I could count the number of houses that this thermometer has seen constant duty in since then, but I am not wearing all of my fingers and toes.

On a slightly less heated note, here is a (dodgy, rushed, long-distance) photograph of that rare combination – as far as I am aware – of moorhen and (well-grown) chick, in public.

Perhaps they’re a common sight, but just like baby pigeons, they are the first that I have noted! What’s not to like about a bird that doesn’t beg at the side-hatch but just gets on with it – and that squeaks like a dog-toy? Moreover, a bird that, like me, has feet sufficiently enormous to get all three of us over any quicksand or mud-flat!

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Wish me luck for tomorrow and, should this blog go quiet, well… the Last Will & Testamentation is under the third solicitor to the left.

Chin-chin.

Ian H., enjoying the relative cool of the brief night and antici………..pating the brief comfort of tomorrow morning, before the sunshine nuttiness kicks in again.

13 Comments

    1. They are indeed – for the (current) state of England – disconvenient and most discomnobulating. Hideous weather! Still, I remain here to moan, which must be good… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I have a similar ancient thermometer- something nice about those – even with the rust and smudges and dents.
    Ugh indeed about the heat and extreme humidity – here, too. Not the time of year for sailboats ( which I prefer, but we are boatless right now…but the memories of sluggishly moving and bobbing wishing for a breeze – any breeze…I have been known to sprawl out one hull of a catamaran and desperately paddle towards shorelines back when we used to race those….and we could manage baking more easily
    Have to shove the dog off the couch at certain appropriate intervals. It’s about 87 F even in the early morning, so dog walks are late, early, and much shorter.
    Grandmother used to say about August on the coastal plains “Only mad dogs and Englishmen are out during the day.”
    The little water birds are fun – squeaks like a dog toy. Who couldn’t love that?
    Hope the weather gods relent and bring you some relief

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    1. Moorhens are – as far as I can tell from the evidence I’ve seen – cute little beasties, living on the edge of water-fowl society and just getting on with things. They’re never to be seen clamouring for feeding at the side-hatch, they don’t engage in massive and prolonged brawls as do ducks, and they certainly don’t engage in G.B.H. upon humans (me!)… I like ’em.

      I’ve never understood what we are told were English dress codes for The Dark Continent and for the Indian Sub-Continent – wholly impossible notions, I think. In such places I might wear my pith-helmet and, if seated, an opened copy of the previous month’s Evening Standard newspaper, nothing more. In winter one may pile layer upon layer if necessary (it usually isn’t), but in summer there are limits to propriety and good taste. 😉

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    1. We like what we like, and that’s all that there is to it. In summertime I have a very narrow comfort zone indeed, which probably accounts for a good deal of my grumpth. 😉

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  4. Poor Ian. You have all of my sympathy. I would merely have given up living in my 20s if air conditioning was not available to me. It’s bad enough to be living through this absolutely satirical apocalypse, but to have to do it in a pool of your own tepid sweat is a step too far. A good stern note to the Weather Gods will at least relieve your spleen, if not the heat.

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    1. I have sent a very stiff letter to QEII, copying in her Minister of Weather and the Chief Clerk at the Met Office. This sort of heat and humidity nonsense is just not good enough. I expect a reply by return, and for things to improve apace…

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    1. Bring back the household position of punkah wallah I say! It always was a fine and respectable profession, and I am sure that it can be adapted to serve in the drawing rooms of England, with health benefits, holiday and pension arrangements…

      Saw a bloke (an idiot) out yesterday at four in the afternoon, probably the hottest part of the day, full sunshine, no shade, dragging around what appeared to be an elderly and overweight dog on a lead – I’ve seen him before in better weather, and I know that here he must be at least a mile away from base! I wanted to poke him with a stick while I gave the hound some water. Not a clue.

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  6. It’s not the daylight sizzling that somewhat urges me to shed clothes like a Page 3 wannabe famous, it”s the curious fact that the sun turns dark at the end of the day yet
    still tries to cook my white succulent flesh. Perhaps I could stick one of those little birds on my head and use their feet as a sunshade.

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    1. At the moment the mornings are my only liveable time – the day doesn’t cool down until long after my bed-time! I remain amazed that so many folk apparently worship this kind of weather and revel in it. To me it’s nothing but extremely uncomfortable and debilitating! Mind you, I don’t suppose that the “glorious sun” types cope well in winter… 😉

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