When I got up this morning it was already one of those stinky hot days. I remember hearing on the radio it was already in the twenties in some parts of Sydney even before six o’clock this morning. And then at about nine-thirty, the bloke from the Bureau of Meteorology “upgraded” the forecast for coastal Sydney to 38 degrees. Ugh.
Although it wasn’t exactly the “blast furnace” I’ve experienced in other places I’ve previously lived, it was still pretty unpleasant today.
My favourite memories of being hot include…
* Arriving in Darwin for the first time in 1998. Thirty-three degrees, humid. And I was still wearing jeans from the mid-winter flight from Sydney.
* Living in Wagga Wagga in the early 1990s. Walking out of the office where I was working onto Fitzmaurice Street in the middle of summer. The hot winds blew straight onto my face.
* Same in Renmark in the late 1980s.
Generally speaking, though, I cope pretty well with the heat. I’m even one of those people who can survive happily even in the midst of humidity. I guess it’s because I grew up on the NSW North Coast, with those oppressively hot and sticky summer nights where you just sweat, sweat, and sweat.
It’s the cold I find most difficult to cope with. I was chatting to a mate at work today who has recently been in New York, and he detailed stories of sub-zero temperaturs. And of Damo has recently been in China with a similar experience.
The older I get the more I like it warm, though not to warm.
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