May is not usually the time for such temperatures in Beetley. The last three days have seen them climb from 24 C on Wednesday, to 27 C yesterday, and a predicted 30 C today. After a spell of unusually cold weather, with the heating on in the house only ten days ago, the contrast is quite remarkable.
So naturally, we are complaining!
Too hot to sleep. Fans on in the house and bedroom. The ‘wrong’ weight of duvet on the bed. Every small chore seems to be doubly difficult in the unfamiliar heat, and Ollie has become subdued and sluggish, as the warm weather makes it hard for him to cool down. Spending much of yesterday in the garden, followed by other household chores inside, left me much more drained and tired than usual.
Tonight, we have welcome visitors from London, one of my oldest friends. Naturally we want the place to be spick and span, so I got up early to crack on with more cleaning and tidying. But by 8:30, it was already uncomfortably hot, with no trace of a breeze through the open windows. I retreated to the computer, to check my emails, and to write this.
After years of constant complaining about bad weather, it really upsets me to be doing something similar about welcome warmth and sunshine. Trouble is, we seem to get everything or nothing, with little in-between. It feels like a life of extremes, either chilly and wet, or far too hot. The garden dried up in less than a day, and now everything needs to be watered. The hose has been retrieved from the shed, and I will wait for the sun to begin to set, before giving the shrubs a much needed drink.
I haven’t bothered to check the long-range forecast, to see if this small heatwave will continue into next week. But I have a feeling that it will not.
This is England, after all.