Once or twice a year the unthinkable happens.
The clouds disappear, the sun shines from a clear blue sky and the wind drops. The thermometer even dips its feet above twenty degrees. Weather forecasters throw caution to the winds [sic] and dare to mention the word ‘hot’.
This is known as ‘Summer’ here. If it lasts more than twelve hours it is called a ‘heatwave’.
Because our summers are so short here, rarely lasting more than forty eight hours we have a lot of hard work to do. First of all there is the scramble by the various councils to issue their warning notices about water shortages. Dublin is first off the mark this year, having put out their warning within six hours of the start of ‘summer’. No doubt other councils will be a little miffed at missing the first spot and will try to save face by imposing hose-pipe bans, water rationing or even complete disconnection of water supplies.
Another group who crave the limelight are the farmers. As soon as they even hear the word ‘summer’ they fight for places on the television news complaining how their crops are ruined by the terrible drought and how they aren’t going to be able to earn a penny this year.
Another aspect of our ‘summer’ is the moaner. Timothy Brady of Limerick wins the prize this year by complaining of the heat just after sunrise this morning. Doubtless the sole topic of conversation tonight in the pubs will be the terrible heat and when is it ever going to cool down.
Our current ‘heatwave, which started at five this morning is expected to last at least until tomorrow evening. This of course is going to lead to total insanity tomorrow as the entire country will try to drive to Brittas Bay. Those that don’t have a car will get the Dart to Seapoint. As a result, 99% of the population is going to spend tomorrow sitting in a fifty mile traffic jam bitching about the traffic and the terrible heat.
I like this kind of weather. It reminds be of the real long hot summers we had back in the fifties.
Of course that was before the days of Global Cooling.