IT’S red hot isn’t it? Summer has finally arrived in Huddersfield for its annual two-week holiday in town.
As we speak, bare-chested young men in tracksuit bottoms are walking vicious looking dogs round Greenhead Park.
Supermarket staff are cowering as hordes of shoppers search for the last disposable barbecue and pack of sausages in the store.
Astonished old people in the town centre are sitting and staring at the acres of bare, and often wobbly, pale flesh displayed by women who have thought to fake tan their necks but not their midriffs.
And yet despite all these things, I love hot weather.
My only problem is that, along with millions of others, I can’t help noticing it only ever happens when I’m at work.
As the sun rose yesterday morning and spread the fingers of its heat across the land I thought ‘fantastic’.
Then I got in the car and it was red hot already.
As sun streamed through the windscreen I squinted to see what on earth I was driving towards.
As I waited at the traffic lights with my window down, a gentle breeze cooling my brow, some car pulled up with windows down and music up.
I say music.
Imagine if an octopus swallowed a burglar alarm and then fell over in a cymbal factory while using a power drill.
That sort of music.
Windows back up, I got to work.
Seated at my desk people began complaining of the heat from around 9am. The gentle sound of perspiration-fuelled moans mixed with the age-old ‘can we work outside?’ drifted across the newsroom.
Looking out of the window the sky was cloudless and blue, the sun sat large in it.
Windows began to be opened and closed to enable, restrict and alter the airflow in the office.
Looking in from outside it must have seemed like some sort of building mating dance as windows opened quickly then closed slowly only for the next one to follow the same pattern.
Dusty fans were switched on, blowing a gale on unsuspecting members of staff and pushing papers and post-it notes high into the air in a summer stationery snowstorm.
Suitably cooled, we beavered on. There was talk of beer gardens, barbecues and suntan lotion.
Come the end of the day it was time to enjoy the Mediterranean temperatures.
The sun was still up but shadows had lengthened. That warm evening smell permeated the air.
Pulling up at home, I walked up the path to the house and went inside to my cool, dark abode.
My partner, all cheerful and full of hope, wanted to know if I fancied having a barbecue for tea.
I said: “Maybe tomorrow. I’m not sure if it’s warm enough today.
“By the way, it’ll be a lot cooler by the weekend.”
