Heatwave in Ireland

30 degrees, Celsius.  That’s 86°F in old money, and in case you’re wondering, the °F stands for °Fucking hot.

I ventured forth at lunchtime, thereby proving that it’s not only mad dogs and Englishmen who go out in the mid-day sun, and I have to tell you, it’s very hot indeed, as if you needed anyone telling you this.  Unless, of course, you happen to be one of the many Inuit followers of BTR.

Jesus Christ, I’m coated in a permanent film of sweat, which many people would normally find revolting except that I’m not alone.  In fact I’m like everyone else in the country, where we’re experiencing temperatures similar to Spain and parts of North Africa.  Because I expect to be out in the open all day tomorrow, with no hope of shelter, I’m seriously thinking of buying a djellaba and a keffiyeh, or at least knocking something together out of old sheets and tea-towels.

What do you think?  I don’t care how I look.

Failing that, I might go for the Fremen look.  Very cool.


My tomato plants and sunflowers are begging for mercy.   The dog is lying on his Satanic side looking up at me in dejection with his tongue hanging out on the floor.  I’m exhausted, Master.  Please bring me something slow-moving to kill.

The one major drawback of this weather is the number of people parading around half naked.  Hairy chests, beer bellies, bad tattoos and wife-beater t-shirts, and that’s only the women.  I don’t like it.  There must surely be a city by-law.  No Wal-Martism!  Down with it, I tell you!

The other thing I don’t like is all this drinking in public, a thing I remarked on to my friends as we sat outside our favourite pub the other day, enjoying our ice-cool beers. Look at those scobes at the corner, I told them , with their cans of cider.  Disgusting.  Drinking in public.  Pint?

I’ll have to get away soon.  Maybe to the islands or maybe to the highlands.  I’m not sure yet.  Maybe I’ll head for someplace sunny.  I haven’t been to our favourite little bolt-hole in Croatia for ages though I’ve been threatening for the last six months.  But it would probably make sense to wait until the Irish heatwave has passed, wouldn’t it?  After all, what kind of fool would you feel if you flew off in search of the sun this week?

The Hound of Satan isn’t enjoying this, which surprised me.  I thought he’d be used to much higher temperatures, given his origins but he hasn’t even got the energy to eviscerate a postman.  I don’t know what to do.  Maybe I should drag him down the road and kick him into the river.  Yesterday, I threw him a piece of raw meat and he looked at it like I’d offered him a bowl of organic salad.  One one level, this is not good, but on another, you know what I’m thinking, don’t you?  Yeah.  Fuck him.

I’m enjoying this roasting weather.  Long may it last.

10 thoughts on “Heatwave in Ireland

  1. This is the most beautiful time I ever enjoyed on this misty island! Finally I can wear my summer clothes I bought a looong time ago back where I came from, though they are a bit out of fashion. Do I care? No. Retro is much more fashionable than sweaty and cheesy white hairy chests (as my mechanic sported when he took the car, because even that one didn’t want to move).

    And the dog, yes, I wanted to drag her to the vet, I thought she was paralyzed, she looked at the sofa and couldn’t even bothered to jump up, tried but gave up and just fell down on the cool stone floor. Until now I couldn’t bring her out for a walk. She just collapses on the front lawn under a shady bush.

    For me that’s summer as it should be. How I missed it! Back in Berlin sitting in some beergarden, going to the beach at Wannsee, eating out in my favourite portuguese restaurant, ending up with Mojitos or Margaritas, talking to all and sundry and usually rubbish.

    For the last evenings I could sit in the garden with my neighbour and finally make use of my wine cooler – not that the crisp white had any chance to warm up anyway. Lazy chats, easy going all around, looking over the countryside, her cats and my dog way to exhausted to fight each other, peace finally.

    Sorry for the long comment. I’m so excited about this summer weather I just could love everyone, even Bock the Robber.

  2. I just got back from New Mexico- 44 degrees Celsius (Euro degrees my kids call them). Dry heat. Great. Very Tolerable. Great desert landscape. Loved it
    Came back to a humid 37 in NYC. Disgusting.
    For some reason there is nothing warmer than an Irish Summer. Is it the hole in the ozone? I have no idea. I always get sunburned at home.

    Enjoy it, lads! Ye deserve it.

  3. Shai Hulud only cost me 4 euros to me nearest offy better than the local hackney boy.

  4. is it me or are we all loving each other a little more in this weather, maybe its all that exposed flesh and I am mixing up love with lust.
    Anyway hope it rolls on till the 16th Sept

  5. Mark – I know, you probably want someone to ask this question, so, why specifically the 16th Sept?

  6. Haven’t seen Dune in way too long Bock, I’ll have to give it another spin one of these balmy nights.

  7. Paulie – Thanks, I’d never have guessed. I thought I was walking into a trap there for a minute, then get I’d publicly ridiculed for asking a stupid question.
    We couldn’t have that, I’m a curious but sensitive chap.

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