So I just now came backstage of Adelaide from Adelaide and see my latest google search (like only moments ago) is ‘what to do in Adelaide when its raining’.
You’re kidding, aren’t you? Five minutes after your heatwave ends and you’re bored. Go outside and run around in it, you goose.
And, look, while we’re on the topic of heatwaves, I’m seeing all your facebook updates and your tweets and your blog posts about this scorching weather, and it really is taking all my effort to not say, ‘Cry my a river, dudes’. When it’s forty five degrees and ninety percent humidity every day for three months, then I’ll listen*.
(*that isn’t to say that I’m not thinking about the fire risk, and how it is these days living with these constant catastrophic warnings – and it has certainly changed the carefree tone of our summers forever)
Oh I look at your weather and think “Thank Christ my partner doesn’t have a sparkling international career because I would lose the will to live in those conditions”. And I’m not exaggerating.
“sparkling international career”…rofl
ok: “career that involves leaving the house”
I went outside and pruned in it, does that count? The bastard bougainvilleas had grown three feet in the last two days.
Pruning?!
I think my neighbour has been pruning my roses in our absence. I don’t know whether to feel pleased or affronted.
Our Mt Wellington neighbours would, from time to time, knock on our door and say, ‘We’re getting the lawnmower out today, would you like us to do yours?’.
Yes, I’ll pay pruning.
We are having the opposite effect here. The US and Europe are all having cold and snow and ice, and they laugh when I say how cold I am. Yes, I tell them, but I have no indoor heating, no insulation, and poorly-installed windows that let in many drafts, so it’s often colder inside than out. Plus it’s very damp and things in closets go moldy. Trust me, I tell them, it’s different, but they can’t see past the numbers on the thermometer.
European friends who’ve lived in Adelaide say the same thing…it’s not as cold in Adelaide, but it feels colder because our insulation is rubbish (but getting better).
@ innercitygarden
Right there with you. Heat I can take, humidity does me in every time.
actually, I’ve adjusted to the humidity I think. Not the extreme humidity, but I do prefer a humid climate to a dry one.
ThirdCat I hear your skin-sizzling pain, but I’m afraid it won’t stop me whining. Whining is the only coping strategy I have when it’s hotter than 37.
Yes, when we first moved to Pt Pirie, my mum said, ‘There’s just two summer degrees, hot and bloody hot.’ As it turns out there’s a third, but it doesn’t mean the bloody hot doesn’t suck.
I’ll play that right back into your court by saying “Yeah yeah yeah, when you’re facing your 45C heat from the confines of a house built more the style of a kiln that anything designed to hold the cool, THEN we’ll listen to your air-conditioned cries.”
Seriously: who built these houses? Didn’t they notice that we don’t really have snow in Adelaide?
yes, they do tend to hold the heat rather well, don’t they? I hate when the cool change comes through, and it takes five days for the house to cool down.
I think they’re actually designed to hold the heat until the next heat wave arrives.
At least our homes here are built for such conditions. Homes in Oz should be now built to handle such conditions too. But can they seriously build homes that can handle 8 degrees one day and 42 the next? (Can you tell I am originally from Melbourne?)
Hot temperatures and all… are you perhaps planning a visit back here for the Fringe? One wants to know before one gets all enthusiastic about buying up tickets for other fringey things. Jane Austen’s music, mostly. Also Under Milkwood.
Or perhaps you will defer ’til 2011…
How nice are you? Thanks for asking…that has made my day! But no, sadly, could not make it work. Back when I had to decide it all looked a bit too hard. Way too hard.
Sort of sorry now, but sort of pleased too. My instincts were right.
Well, it’s chilly and raw in Edinburgh. Dark. Very Januaryish (which is a bad thing, in Britain).