Summer is coming

In which a slight increase in temperature is cause for mass hysteria.

It’s getting fairly mild in here which means that the British summer has started to arrive. For anybody from these isles complaining about the poor weather we have had this year it is invariably met with the comment “ooh, it’s too hot”.

Important cultural fact about the British, we are basically Goldilocks with the exception we never find anything that is just right. During the long winter my house has been an ice box, requiring the central heating to be on full blast, but the first time that the sun comes out it has converted from a freezer into an oven.

It taunts us like a Frenchman does an English knigit, when I get home it feels nicely cool and refreshing. As soon as that door closes then it whacks itself straight up to gas mark 10 and proceeds to slow roast the household.

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The English summer

In which rain and shine co-exist on any given day.

Queues and the weather, this is the enduring myth that this is all the English talk about. Of course this is utter nonsense, we very rarely talk about queues. We just stand in line silently seething when we see anyone unable to follow queuing etiquette and once in a while grumble that the other line is moving ever so slightly faster.

When it comes to weather it is a different story. We are obsessed. Is it going to rain, it looks like rain, they said it was going to rain. Summer is prefaced with weeks complaining its too cold and as soon as the mercury starts to rise it is met with a chorus of its to hot.

This week summer has finally arrived on these shores which means men walk around with no shirts on and we all try to find a beer garden to decamp to. The most important part is that we all must grouch about it being too warm to do anything.

Being confronted by this nationwide vitriol to the increased heat Mrs G made a fatal error, as a foreigner she mentioned that this isn’t hot you should try New York in the summertime.

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How hot can an office be?

In which the air-con wars begin.

The current hot topic of the office is the temperature. Not the fact that Summer seems to be trying to get a foothold here in England (and being as successful as Esperanto) and the mercury is rising slowly from cold to mild, but that we are now working at an ambient temperature of the Mediterranean. In fact here are the places on Earth that are currently hotter than the desk I’m sitting at:

Hot places on Earth

We are still waiting to break through the magical 26c barrier (or for my non-metric readers 78.8f) as the feeling is that it will be some watershed moment like when petrol (gasoline) passed the 99.9p per litre (errr…some dollars per gallon) level. Yet as we sit here boiling in our skins is there a limit to what temperature we can be made to work at?

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