We are in a heatwave apparently. Although sitting in a box on the second floor of a characterless building in Hammersmith, you would forgive me for not knowing it. If I strain my neck, I can see some green things – leaves, I think they are known as in the outside world. I have a vague impression of what the weather is like outside – when it’s sunny I can’t see my screen properly.
I am reading reports of ‘dangerous levels’ of heat in London… there are pictures on all the websites that I am idly looking at in between small bouts of work. Funny that, as I am sitting here under an air con vent with my cardigan keeping me cosy.
Andy Murray is about to step out into the glorious sunshine and all the people that have nothing better to do than queue for two days for centre court tickets are preparing to sit on their arses for the next few hours and do a lot of clapping. I am not jealous at all. I would much rather be swiping at keys, not tennis balls, not brushing sweat off my brow, but condensation off my screen from the arctic air con blasting down on my scalp.
Britain does get some pretty good weather, it’s just that we work so can’t get to enjoy it. I am sure by the time Saturday comes, it will either be raining, or so hot that all the places you would want to go and sit in the sun are full of people. I don’t mind people – I work with them – but on a day off? They can just all fuck off.
It may seem rather desperate of me to write a blog about the weather. Maybe my brain is so boring that that is all I could think to discuss on this sunny day in July. But forgive me, this is actually weather worth talking about – a ‘dangerous’ heatwave. Old people and gingers will be dropping like flies. It will be like that time when the floods came.
Maybe this isn’t climate change. It could just be Jesus. The Israelites got locusts, we got tourists. They had Noah’s Ark and we had the Millenium Dome. Life’s cyclical after all. This heatwave is not designed to turn us into leather-skinned David Dickinson lookalikes – it is a warning from God.
While the end of the world gets nearer (mine will come at 5.30pm just to spite me I am sure), I have the BBC with its live Wimbledon coverage to keep me entertained (so long as I can press minimise quickly enough when someone walks past).