If one more person comes up to me mopping their brow theatrically and exclaiming “Cor, isn’t it hot?” I’m going to thump them!
Of course it’s hot – it’s August! We’re in Spain! What do they expect? Drifts of snow? Frozen pipes? Days of torrential rain, followed by weeks of drizzle? No – they expect sunshine. And what do they do when they get it? Moan!
The Spanish are just as bad – my office landlady isn’t seen out of the house between the hours of 8.30a.m. and 8.30p.m, except to walk up to the shop to get her daily groceries. Dressed in black from head to foot she shuffles up the road carrying a huge umbrella to protect her from the evil rays. Then, as she passes my door, she drops her bags on the floor, flaps her arms like a demented crow (presumably to cool her sweating armpits) and cries ‘Mucho calor!’ (As if I hadn’t worked that out for myself).
‘It’s not usually this hot’ everyone keeps telling me.
Yes it is!!! Believe you me some years it’s even hotter – one year our garden thermometer blew up, as the temperature soared over 50°. Another year the local rabbit farm lost over 300 rabbits in one day due to heat exhaustion. Then there was the year the tarmac melted and ruined the tyres on my bicycle (not to mention my brand new trainers).
Of course the Spanish have the right idea – most of them take the whole of August off – (an idea I shall be putting to the boss next year). In the meantime I shall sit at my desk with my feet in a bowl of iced water and pray that no one comes in!
Roll on winter – then we’ll have something to really moan about.