A new word for you

You may have noticed the weather recently, It's the middle of June and people are still going out wearing anoraks, scarves and winter coats. One of my students told me the other day that, so far this year, there has only been one day when she hasn't worn a vest (Unterhemd).

Well, the other day I came across a word that exactly describes the kind of weather we have been having this month: Juneuary. 

This is when you have the weather of January in June. I don't know who came up with it, but I think it's sheer genius.

Mad dogs and Englishmen

I know that the disappearance and eventual discovery of Dr Michael Mosley even made it into the German press. Dr Mosley qualified as a medical doctor but decided to join the BBC instead where he ended up presenting lots of programmes on TV and on the radio as well as writing books - all on the topic of health.

What caused him to focus on what one can do to improve one's health was the early death of his father at the age of 74. His father had developed diabetes and Dr Mosley didn't want to suffer in the same way, so when he, too, was diagnosed with diabetes, he did all he could to reverse it, which he did. He then became an evangelist for good health, promoting, in particular, the 5:2 fasting diet. (This is when you eat only 600 calories on two days of the week but eat sensibly on the other five.) As he said, his father never got to see his grandchildren grow up and that's not a fate that he wanted to suffer.

Well, Dr Michael Mosley is now dead. At the age of 67. Seven years earlier than his own father. Despite all his good health tips, his healthy lifestyle, and the fact that his own wife is a GP (general practitioner).

And why did he die so early? Because this qualified doctor, with all the research he had done over decades, thought it was a good idea to go for a walk in the early afternoon, in open countryside, in the searing heat of 37 degrees Celsius, with a small bottle of water, an umbrella and no mobile phone. Two hours later, he was dead. Of heatstroke. So all that healthy living was for nothing.

How could he think going for a walk in those temperatures was a good idea? How could his GP wife let him? Sometimes, cliches originate from general truths. One of them is "when in Rome, do as the Romans do". Does the local population on that small Greek island go for a walk at the hottest time of the day? Do they? Do they heck. So what made him think it would be fine for him to do so?

Noel Coward, an English composer, playwright, director, actor and wit (a sort of 20th century Oscar Wilde), once wrote a song called Mad Dogs & Englishmen. Basically, the gist of the song went like this: Mad dogs and Englishmen, Go out in the midday sun. It seems that it's still true today.

Here is the suave and urbane Noel Coward (died 1973) singing his own song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkEd3WgR8qw

And as he goes at quite a pace, here are the lyrics:

In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire
To tear their clothes off and perspire.
It's one of those rules that the greatest fools obey,
Because the sun is much too sultry
And one must avoid its ultry-violet ray.

The native grieve when the white men leave their huts,
Because they're obviously definitely nuts!

Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun,
The Japanese don't care to.
The Chinese wouldn't dare to,
Hindoos and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one.
But Englishmen detest a siesta.
In the Philippines
There are lovely screens
To protect you from the glare.
In the Malay States
There are hats like plates
Which the Britishers won't wear.
At twelve noon
The natives swoon
And no further work is done.
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.

It's such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see
That though the English are effete,
They're quite impervious to heat,
When the white man rides every native hides in glee,
Because the simple creatures hope he
Will impale his solar topee on a tree.

It seems such a shame
When the English claim
The earth
That they give rise to such hilarity and mirth.

Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.
The toughest Burmese bandit
Can never understand it.
In Rangoon the heat of noon
Is just what the natives shun.
They put their Scotch or Rye down
And lie down.
In a jungle town
Where the sun beats down
To the rage of man and beast
The English garb
Of the English sahib
Merely gets a bit more creased.
In Bangkok
At twelve o'clock
They foam at the mouth and run,
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.

Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun.
The smallest Malay rabbit
Deplores this foolish habit.
In Hongkong
They strike a gong
And fire off a noonday gun
To reprimand each inmate
Who's in late.
In the mangrove swamps
Where the python romps
There is peace from twelve till two.
Even caribous
Lie around and snooze;
For there's nothing else to do.
In Bengal
To move at all
Is seldom, if ever done.
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday
out in the midday sun.

Source: Musixmatch

Dear Noel in his younger days:

Blame the cold and the rain on me

Two Februarys ago, that is to say, in February 2023, I had a 4.6 m long awning (Markise) installed on my balcony. It cost me an arm and a leg, but since Germany had been having heatwaves for 19 years and had been suffering from a drought for the last six years, I didn't think the situation was going to change.

Even at 7.30 a.m. in the spring months, I had to leave the balcony and go indoors because my east-facing balcony is a heat trap. Put a thermometer out on the balcony table at breakfast time and you could watch the mercury rise to 50 degrees C in a matter of minutes. How much higher it would actually go, I don't know. The scale stops at 50 C. I could, however, sunbathe on my balcony at 8 a.m. in March or April. 

I remember once having breakfast on the balcony with my oldest cousin and my legs started cooking. Since my jeans are always black in colour, you can imagine how the material soaks up the early morning heat. When I showed my cousin my skin, it was mottled. The heat did that.

And, of course, my poor plants were exposed to the heat all morning, until the sun disappeared around the building at about 1 p.m. They really suffered.

Thus, in the end, I bit the bullet and actually spent some money. Not an easy thing for me to do. And that was in February of last year.

Since then, we've had rain, rain and more rain. Germany's drought was officially deemed over in about October 2023 and for the first time in years, the lake in the local park is now actually full to the brim. Marvellous. However, I only used the awning about four times last year and this year have done so only once. Once! 

We're heading towards the middle of June and not long after that it will be the longest day of the year and the days will then start to wane, and I'm still going to bed with a hot water bottle. Still wearing anoraks and scarves when I go outside. Still wearing layers to keep warm. Today, I even took my long, thick cardigan out of the wardrobe again. And don't even think of leaving home without an umbrella. You may think it's stopped raining for the day, but the weather is just trying to lure you outside so it can rain on you again.

So if you are wondering, what the hell happened to all the heat we used to have, blame me. I finally go to the expense of having an awning installed to protect myself and my plants from the searing heat, and the weather changes drastically and we have nothing but rain and cold. Go on. My shoulders are broad. I can bear the blame.

Not my actual balcony, but I did go for grey and yellow stripes in a different pattern.

"I'm NOT an idiot!" - "Are you sure about that?"

I'm still trying to figure out why a certain cyclist believes he is not an idiot.

This happened about a month ago. There I was, leading a walk, when all of a sudden, I saw a cyclist hurtling determinedly towards us. "He's got to stop soon," I thought to myself. "He's got to stop some time." Then a second later, "Why isn't he stopping???" And I cannot remember what I said to the woman walking next to me, but I do know that I used the word 'idiot', which happens to be the same word in German, just with a capital letter, i.e. "Idiot". 

At this, the cyclist finally came to an abrupt halt. "I am not an idiot," he stated. What was said then, I cannot remember at all. 

At one point, however, I looked behind me to see what the cyclist could see and what I saw was this: 17 grown people, two large metal barriers, staggered and designed to force cyclists to dismount from their bikes, a narrow path only wide enough for two people and a slope, since we were on the side of a hill. And this "I am not an idiot" person thought, "Oh, it's okay. I'll just cycle through this crowd of people and metal barriers on a narrow path on the side of a hill."

For the next few nights, every time I closed my eyes, I had visions of the cyclist slipping and sliding into at least two people and throwing them down the slope. Would this "I am not an idiot" cyclist have looked after anyone with a broken leg? Would he have paid compensation for pain or loss of earnings? 

What if we had had a dog with us that might have leapt up as he passed, thus causing him to skid? What if one of us had some condition that meant he or she had jerky movements, which might have startled him - and caused him to skid? What if one of the 17 of us had not seen him coming as they were watching where they put their feet or looking at their phone and stepped in his path?

All this went through my mind as I saw this moron cycle towards us, but he himself saw 17 people, two metal barriers, a narrow path and a slope and thought: "Perfectly safe, I'll just cycle through all this."

What an idiot.

Exploding eggs

You know how they tell you not to put whole eggs into the microwave because they'll explode? Well, I have no microwave - much to the shock of my former Japanese hairdresser who asked what I did with any leftovers of a meal - to which I replied "What leftovers?". No, I don't have a microwave but I have still managed to make three eggs explode within the last week.

And how did I manage that, you may well be asking. Well, I'll tell you. Just put a pan with lots of water and an egg or two on to boil and forget all about it. Eventually, from another room, you'll hear a small explosion and you will realise that, once again, you've let a pan boil dry, which is why the eggs have exploded. 

The first two were still edible, the third wasn't, so I gave up and bought pre-boiled painted eggs from the supermarket. Not so nice as warm eggs, but I won't have to fear the destruction of yet another pan.

The safer option.

Maps, apps and saps

As some of you may already know, I have been leading walks through the local German countryside on and off since 2013. (One of the 'off' periods was, naturally, the lockdowns necessitated by the pandemic.)

I prepare myself pretty well for these walks. Mostly, I get my ideas from books published by Droste. First, I read the description in the book, do some research as to how easy it would be to get there and back and then I take out one of my large maps and study the route on it - as well as on Google Maps. The final step before deciding to walk the route to see if it's suitable for a guided walk with me is marking the route on the large big paper map. That is one skill I learnt in Geography at school: the ability to read a map.

Often, however, when I whip out my map along the way, I am gently teased for being so old-fashioned. Apparently, I should have something like a small, hand-held Garmin that will guide me through the countryside. Instead of getting ideas from books, I could let myself be inspired by, say, Komoot. 

I shall stick to my way of doing things for as long as possible. For one thing, if I dropped some electronic device onto a path in the pouring rain and didn't notice that for at least a quarter of an hour, I doubt whether it would still be useable. Whereas, when I did do this about 3 years ago, all I needed to do was spread the paper map out in my hotel room and let it dry out. I won't say that it's "as good as new", but it definitely is still useable.

Once, I remember going round in circles because the path wasn't marked very well and the map ran out at that point. Two women came by with a smartphone. Were they able to help? Nope. No signal. 

Two days ago, on Wednesday, I was going to a class in my gym when I came across a woman holding a smartphone and looking completely lost. Naturally, I asked if I could help. 

The Google Maps website was already open and we could see where we were on it, thanks to a little blue pulsating button. However, do you think she could figure out how to get from there to where she wanted to go - which was marked by a bright red marker? Nope. One problem with these apps on smartphones or other electronic devices is that the damned map is soooo small that you can't see the surrounding area. And if you zoom out, you can't read the markings on the map.

I've seen these saps (i.e. foolish people) in the countryside, too. They stand there, looking at this small screen with just a few markings on it. When they zoom out, the image is still not sufficiently detailed for them to work out where to go.

Once, I went on a guided walk with someone who relied on the instructions coming from a device. Readers, we went round in circles. And this was an experienced guide who had, until then, used real maps, i.e. maps made out of paper. Wonderfully large maps that give you a really good overview of the area you happen to be in.

This is why, even when I go to cities, I get a guide book out of the local library and study the relevant maps contained therein. Whenever I get to my destination, I then zoom off and within 10 minutes of walking around in the town, people are asking me for directions! Whereas the poor saps who think that a teeny-weeny map on a teeny-weeny screen is a sign of progress are still standing on the pavement in front of their hotel trying to figure out which direction they should take.

After moronic cyclists, now we have a moronic jogger

This morning, I made my way to the main station for a 20 km walk with my walking group. I was striding along a quiet side street when I heard a noise behind me. Startled, I looked back in case it was someone who wanted to mug me (you don't get through three years of living in Manchester without developing a sense of danger). But no, it was just a female jogger about 7 metres behind me. 

I look to see that there is at least 1.5 metres space between me and the building to my right and carry on.

The next thing I know is that this woman nearly runs into the back of me and what does this idiot say to me? "Vorsicht!"

Vorsicht? Vorsicht? Me? The German word literally means 'before/in front sight'. That is to say you should look ahead of you to see what's coming.

This woman, at least in her mid 30s, runs along a pavement and nearly runs into my back and has the temerity, the effrontery to tell me that I should watch out.

When I shouted to her as she ran past me, she didn't react at all. Probably because she had earphones in her ears and so couldn't hear anything happening around her. What a bloody idiot.

How can people like this be allowed out on their own without supervision? How can they survive to their mid-30s? 

I tell you...when I'm dictator of the world, I'll put moronic cyclists and now joggers into an institution, where they can live and work under supervision. And they won't be allowed out on the streets. That should make the streets a whole lot safer.