Heat is a funny thing – certainly for us expatriates from colder climes. Temperatures that at home would be considered deadly, here in our other home are deemed pretty normal if a little warm. Well it is August, so why go outside. Are you a mad dog, or just an English (wo)man ?!
However it isn’t as simple as that – endless beach weather seems very attractive when you are stuck in the rain and gloom of what the BBC has called “ex-Hurricane Bertha”, and my heart goes out to those camping in Cornwall or sheltering in a cottage in Sheringham. Beach weather here entails impossible days, when kids (wisely) don’t want to venture out and the dog plays dead, followed by sleepless sweaty nights during which husbands go AWOL, looking for the cool promised by a quick walk up the hill, or a head stuck in the freezer.
Strategies dreamed up during the blessedly temperate evening evaporate in the harsh bright sunlit reality of the following day. Trees are pruned very slowly, vegetables are watered too little and too late, the washing bleaches on the line. Brief respite is gained at around 6.30, when a trip to the crowded but extremely attractive Sant Jordi beach is rewarded by a refreshing Mediterranean evening dip. And all thoughts of Filey are temporarily put to rest !
It is evening now – time for a cool hard look at what is needed to keep the olives productive and the aubergines blossoming , to once again change the house into a dream home, and to provide the kids with stimulating and creative activities to fill their long summer holidays …… all good stuff, but tomorrow it may just fade into another white-out of beach weather and acceptance that “mañana, mañana” is a pretty good philosophy for August on the Costa Daurada !