Three Degrees: Hailstones, Shorts, and Slippers

A Nation's Favourite Topic

If there is anything the English can always make conversation about, it is the weather; there is always something to say about it.

I looked at my mobile phone this morning before leaving home and noticed it was just three degrees Celsius, in the middle of April. I had turned off my heating a couple of weeks ago, as we eased into British Summer Time, which is everything British, but nothing like summer, and barely feeling like spring.

One good thing: there was no forecast of rain, a reputation some people are keen to attach to Manchester more than reality suggests. It does not always rain in Manchester; it just happens to coincide with when those observers visit.

Pelted by Hailstones

Yesterday, I thought of going out for a walk. It was pleasant enough, though I had only anticipated a drizzle. When the heavens opened, I was pelted with hailstones the size of opaque tapioca pearls. Come to think of it, I have never been caught in a hailstorm before; the most I have experienced of it is watching from indoors.

Lest I forget, we also had a hailstorm a couple of weeks ago. I hope it is not becoming a regular occurrence. Then imagine my surprise, knowing how cold it was, to see someone about fifty yards ahead of me in shorts. Are you crazy? I cannot complain, though, because when I am in South Africa, my tolerance of the cold makes others think I am crazy.

Sights on the Street

Hardly had I put that out of my mind when a lady of a certain age, a sexagenarian at the very least, stepped out of her hotel for a cigarette in a white cardigan, just long enough to cover the detail. You might have to lop off three to four decades to raise any interest.

She was wearing those disposable hotel guest slippers. You want to say to her, “Oh, darling, you should never have stepped out of your hotel room like that.”

Then again, if you have a nicotine addiction, what is the cold or decency, when you need to light up and feel the warmth of your lungs filled with smoke? The sun is shining, we are in double figures, and from everything I can see on the street, there is another man in shorts whilst everyone else is behaving.

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Coronavirus streets in the heat - LIII

No scrubs

As I stepped out unto Main Road this afternoon, life began imitating a song by TLC; a scrub indeed, though sitting in the back seat popping his head out of the window, hollering at a lady as they drove past, a pesty attempt at a catcall as the lady somewhat delectable tried to ignore him. [YouTube: TLC - No Scrubs]

Too much of this happens, where men just think any lady that walks by is open for some sort of assault without any recourse to anything including the law apart from keeping to herself indifferent to the raucous around her with the hope she’ll be out of earshot before some animal instinct informs the man to advance into her personal space.

Skimping the heat

On the weather, a subject that you do not have to ask an Englishman to initiate conversation, I am close to melting point as I left home with temperatures close to freezing and until a couple of days ago, we were in the early twenties that some have terms unseasonably cool, now that we are breaching the thirties, anywhere to keep cool in the shade is what I seek. There is no air-conditioning here, they have a heater instead, in Cape Town.

Anyway, this seems to change the mode of dress, I am keeping in shorts, T-shirts and sandals, trousers would apply to church and evenings, the jacket has become optional and at most times unnecessary. As we left for church this morning, I could not help but notice that a lady seemed to have more material in her hairdo than on her shorts. Go figure!

Keeping sensibly safe

Again, we cannot ignore the pandemic, we are still diligently taking precautions, wearing facemasks whenever we are outdoors, social distancing, keeping away from crowds and enclosed places. Sitting outside if that is available at restaurants or as well away from people as possible.

Life however goes on, and it would seem they have a bigger problem in the UK than we have down in South Africa, we still have our temperature taken when entering certain establishments, asked to sanitise our hands at every opportunity and even have to register with names, telephone numbers and even addresses. None of that happened much in the UK, that is it any wonder that in our liberal quest for freedoms and liberties, the infection rates have been the highest in the UK for the past 3 days? [WorldMeters.info - Coronavirus]

May the mercury rise soon

In the chill of May

Exasperation and consternation, the tumult in my mind as I woke to see that it was just one degree above zero and this is the second of May. What really could be going on? We practically had a sunny day for all the days in April, yet, we rarely had the double digits for temperature, it could have been February.

Halfway through my walk the sun came out, radiant and bright but not moving the mercury by much. By the time I stepped out for church, it was only 4 degrees above zero, even the confines of the church building were warm enough that after walking over 18,000 steps, but the cold I had endured created a soporific effect, I was nodding off before the service began; I barely kept awake if not for the times we had to stand up.

The short time I had hoped to spend in the sun sipping my Starbucks latte after I left the church was promptly aborted by a drizzle, other plans put in abeyance, and even in the company of friends, I was soon caught away by the heaviness of my eyelids, there was no other option but to go for a nap. Things would not be warming up soon, as the Bank Holiday Monday is supposed to present more rain and hardly the comfort of warmth. It might be May, that is the only thing going on.  

Thought Picnic: Somewhat slow getting to tiptop shape

Easy does it

I slowly put myself into recovery mode by not exerting myself too much, anything that will labour my breath, my thinking or my situation I have attempted to avoid to devote the reserves of strength I have to getting well quickly.

Obviously, with my serious loss of appetite there were no reserves of energy to do extraordinary things, letting the fresh air in, I have kept in my hotel room, keeping warm and drinking Earl Grey tea by the gallon – I like my tea.

I have taken on no new activities even though there are some things that need tending to, I have just stuck to the routines of work and rest for maximum benefit – contributing to Twitter without being too combative, having telephone conversations in the most demure manner even when I have been so greatly irritated and avoiding the frustrations that accompany emails from people who should be doing what I repeatedly have to get them to do, again and again – I am taking my time.

New hands on me

My hospital check-ups are round the corner but with all that was going on, I could not muster the strength for travel to the Netherlands but as my pills were running out and I could not get the unprogressive Boots’ Chemist pharmacist to read my foreign prescription, I arranged to visit the local hospital this morning to chat about my situation.

The synopsis of my story had already made them eager to engage and help, somehow, I represented one of those rare cases of people who have done the whole nine yards and more regimens of radical medical intervention much of which they had mostly read from textbooks or heard of from historical recounts but never experienced.

I was ushered in nicely, introduced, registered and then called into the doctor’s office where I related my entire medical history without skipping on all the medical terms and the apothecary concoctions that have found sojourn through my body over the last four years.

Pages of notes later along with reading through my medical transcript, we decided on a battery of tests and checks, swabs, fluids and the 7 vials of blood followed with an appointment for three weeks hence and not forgetting a month’s supply of pills.

I’m feeling cold again

I returned to the hotel to work at pace rather than the office especially after the amount of blood I had given. The decision remains mine if I want to move my treatment regimen completely back to the UK and avail myself of additional services to help people with my medical history cope with a whole myriad of issues.

My appetite is still far from back to normal, I could only manage a fruit salad and though my temperature read 35.9 Celsius this morning taken from my ear, I seem to be running a higher temperature already that I have asked for another blanket as I seek the miracle healing benefits of sleep to give me strength for tomorrow.

Sun Getting in Europe

Sun’s out

We come out and we laid down in the sun for burning. It is the reptilian nature of Northern Europeans to sun bathe, every appearance of the glowing sun with its warmth and heat is a welcome sign to strip off and soak it in.

Now, those of us of darker skin are usually not persuade of the sun worshipping ritual all by reason of the fact that we have come from sunnier climes where we probably always sought the shade and when we did not, we had our houses and offices fitted with air-conditioners that brought tundra to the tropics.

Sun health

I did remember one office I visited in Lagos that required we all wore jumpers for the artificially manufactured cold – no one considered the cost of and the energy it took to freeze the building.

The fact is we also need the sun because essential Vitamin D is produced by our exposure to the sun which we do not get enough of in Europe that we have to take supplements in the winter months.

Humidity is sometimes a curse, it is usually so high as to be suffocating, we need the sun, we need hydration and we need cooling down. One other problem that we have encountered is after about 8 years of living in Europe we become so susceptible to hay fever – the feeling could be so nasty, those of us spare the ravages of that ailment can only be thankful.

Sun getting

By and large, we should take in the sun with moderation and there isn’t much we can do with sun screen lotions since the pigmentation that is literally invisible on Caucasian skin shows up as if we have been face painting.

The sun is out, we should make the best of summer, my shorts, my bicycle and off to the man-made beach I used to scoff at.