They say prevailing outside temperatures are currently mid-30’s Celsius here in Blighty. I’ve gotta say, though, it feels more like the steady 190C my oven blasts out when cooking corned beef hash…… Or, coming to think of it, any other dish which requires cooking at 190C!
The calefaction produced by solar rays today and yesterday have been astonishingly oppressive. Especially for my canine buddies Zella and Deano. With chez Strachan chambers and hallways bereft of air conditioning, I’m utilising cooling collars and wet towels to assuage the German Shepherd and Lhasa apso’s heat discomfort.
Amongst the refrains penned for the 1933 musical ‘As Thousands Cheer’, Irving Berlin wrote the following inaugural two verses for his song ‘We’re Having A Heatwave’:-
We’re having a heat wave,
A tropical heat wave,
The temperature’s rising,
It isn’t surprising,
She certainly can can-can.
She started a heat wave
By letting her seat wave
In such a way that
The customers say that
She certainly can can-can.
And do you know what, I think I know what he means.
As I commence this paragraph, I’ve just returned from Sainsbury’s with a tower fan to help cool the dogs, whom I’m very worried about in this extreme calidity. This cooling machine standing two foot tall, with the scaled down structural proportions of the Tower of Pisa (only straighter), has it’s work cut out to chill the room. However, at least the gadget seems to’ve lowered the temperatures enough to settle the previously troubled fur scamps.
Due to more pressing issues (pressing all the bloody buttons on the new cooling tower to find an optimum ambience for the mutts) I was unable to complete this blog on Tuesday.
Seriously, though, unexpectedly sorting out documentation for a flat I’ve just secured for rental took up yesterday’s otherwise free writing time. When I got home from the letting agency (post paperwork signing) I was so uncomfortably warm I couldn’t be arsed to get the creative juices flowing….. Instead, it was the orange juices placating a raging thirst which flowed.
Of course, sadly, a switch from my late parents home to a rented flat means I’ll not be able to continue the dog sitting duties which’ve contributed to a recent upturn in my spirits. However, the Wakefield flat is only a few miles away from their mum Sarah’s so I’ll visit frequently to walk and feed them.
There were many aspects of the flat and its surrounding area which appealed, and subsequently drove my application for tenancy. Amongst them the fact it’s located only around 200 yards from a curry house forming part of a leading West Yorkshire restaurant franchise….. Consequential of this there’s a good chance in a few months, due to the fabulous fare and close proximity of this eatery, I’ll be undergoing rehab for chicken balti addiction.
Anyhow, even though it’ll be a wretch to leave my current abode (my late parents home) I’m thinking of this episode as a whole new start for yours truly. A new page turned, fresh memories to be made, regenerated storylines for GJ Strachan’s existential soap opera. The latter a show whose cast hopefully enjoy scenes of positivity, fun, laughter and lots of naan bread.
Mercifully, today’s heat is a far less oppressive mistress than the fiery floozy who made Monday and Tuesday interminable. Although still subject to clear blue skies, at least opening a window today affords the luxury of a cooling zephyr’s entry into the room. Not a heat blast similar to that experienced in summer when disembarking a plane on the Iberian peninsula.
Right, as this literary episode has reached its denouement, I’m gonna bid you adieu prior to prepping lunch. All this talk of chicken baltic curries have made me a tad peckish.