While you scorch yourselves in 35C heat, I’ll be dreaming of the perfect British summer: drizzly and miserable

Why would anyone want to feel like a honey-glazed chipolata when you could be cool and comfortable?

I’m not really one for taking much notice of the weather. I never check the weather when we’re going away or planning a picnic. It rarely occurs to me, which is possibly why so many of our family photos are of sodden children grinning under trees in Richmond Park.

If it hadn’t been for my many neighbours, fellow dog walkers and chattering WhatsApp groups mentioning it, I would not have known that today is due to reach temperatures of more than 35C degrees. Nor would I have known to get up at 6am to walk the dog, close all the blinds and prepare for a day of staying firmly indoors. The lady’s not for burning.

In the days of the Old Normal, we had a street party every year. Last year, it fell on a scorching hot day and cheesecakes and plates of sandwiches melted into themselves. I hid in a neighbour’s cool kitchen for a good part of the afternoon. A neighbourhood woman came in and wondered why I was indoors when I could be outdoors, sweating from my eyeballs, grilling my skin and repeatedly saying “It’s so hot”.

“I’m not great with the heat”, I told her. The woman (not from my street, but a couple of streets down) said “I would have thought you’d be used to it. You know, Iran and all that.”

It was an interesting take to imagine that I was, due to being born in a warm climate, somehow predisposed to enjoy under-boob sweat, or perhaps she thought I had evolved to store moisture like a camel so can remain hydrated for longer. Who knows. She flip-flopped out with a bottle of prosecco before we could discuss it further.

My daughter informed a lady we chatted with at the beach on the Isle Of Wight recently, “My mummy hates the sun”. Now, this is not true. I am not a vampire. I have nothing against the sun. It’s a glorious invention, it’s melt-your-face-off heat which I have no time for.

The drunken street party gate crasher might have had a point by accident, rather than one she had considered. Perhaps because my parents are from a country where hot weather is normal, there was never the pressure to rush out into it and “make the most of it”. On the contrary, hot weather was a reason to gather indoors and put the air con on full blast.

In England though, the moment the sun puts its hat on (hip hip hip hooray) the pressure is on. Some blokes, poor things, feel the compulsion to wander down high streets with their T-shirts bunched up in their hands. My daughter is fascinated by the “naked men” and makes a game of counting them.

In a heatwave, people pour to the beaches and lie in parks to bake themselves. Absolutely baffling. I got up at 6am to take the dog for a walk because there was no way I would do it later when it got very hot. My dog understands. She’s a golden retriever so has a double coat. She’s bred to swim in freezing water and retrieve dead ducks. In hot weather, she goes to the coolest part of the kitchen and does not move until the sun relaxes a bit. I think I may be part golden retriever.

Other than walking the dog and dropping my daughter off at a friend’s, you won’t get me out of the house today. I know people think that’s a terrible shame. Why be cool and comfortable when you can feel like a hot sticky, honey-glazed chipolata sausage instead?

This hot weather does give us all something to talk about with one another though. So often, the English way of talking about the weather is put down to a deep cultural passion for it, but surprisingly, this is not the case. By far, the best observed take is Kate Fox’s Watching The English, an anthropological deep-dive into English culture, where she explains that the idle chitchat about the weather, “Nice day isn’t it?” she writes, “is code for ‘I’d like to talk to you. Will you talk to me?’”

I honestly didn’t get this for the longest time and frequently committed the sin of contradicting someone’s opinion about the weather. The answer to “bit nippy isn’t it?” is always “yes, it is”. By agreeing, you are accepting their friendly offer of a chat. A response of “I’m quite warm actually” will cut the conversation dead and you will have effectively told them to sod off.

So, as folk enthuse about this heatwave, I have learned to smile and nod politely, holding back from telling anyone that I’m going to spend most of the day in a cool bath chomping on ice cubes until the weather starts to behave itself and treats us all to a bit of drizzle.