Australia’s approaching summer fills me with dread. I’m not equipped to battle 40C
By Rebecca Shaw4 min read
As a cultured citizen of the globe (social media), I am witness to a lot of different opinions about the weather throughout the year. I will soon be sharing my own, as Sydney weather begins to warm, triggering my dread of the hot months to come.
As the cold mornings start to ease, and everyone and their hot mothers start to post from the beach, I see friends overseas shivering in fear at the fast-approaching winter, when they will then shiver from the cold. Anytime and anywhere cold months happen, people post about having Sad. Not having sad, which is what I call my depression, but Sad – seasonal affective disorder. For some of these people it is a genuine mood disorder, and some are being hyperbolic (in the way that a portion of people who just like their things to be neat claim to have OCD) – but the point is that there is a common language for people who get miserable in winter. There are products that cater to the winter-haters. There are special lamps and alarm clocks that mimic outdoor light (not to mention heaters), and I’m glad people have the support to get through it.
Europe’s summer emergency was a dire warning for Australia. What can be learned before it’s too late?
Read more
But you almost never hear about the reverse – the people whose spirits, not just skins, shrivel in the hot sun.
When I complain about the heat, which I do often and loudly, people occasionally comment that I should be used to it, being from Queensland. This might be true for most Queenslanders, however I am from Toowoomba, a place that sits 700 metres above sea level, remaining cooler than most.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy warm weather, or get sick of cold weather. I’m normal. My perfect weather is 26C, blue sky with a few clouds and a slight cooling breeze. But in Sydney, on this ever-hotter planet, I experience this perfect weather for approximately two weeks of the year. Then it tips into uncomfortably hot, then unbearably hot, and finally into maybe I want to die hot. Sure, there are fun parts in there. There are happy friends, being outside, beers, being outside with friends having beers, and most importantly, stone fruit. A perfectly ripe peach offsets approximately three hours of doom feelings.
But the fun things about summer are really only fun if you can get some relief, and if you can get some sleep.
This is where air conditioner privilege comes in. I have never lived in a house with air conditioning. When people say they love summer, I presume they either have air conditioning or are lying. If you sleep in air conditioning, wake up in air conditioning, drive your air-conditioned car to your air-conditioned workplace and then to the beach and then back to your air-conditioned home, of course you bloody love summer. You get to dip in and out of it, while people like me are sticking to every surface, draping wet towels over fans that blow warm air around, gilding ourselves with frozen peas, lying in cold baths, lurking extensively in bottle-o cold rooms, going to movies we would never otherwise pay to see, mopping our brows and boobs and various crevices, and generally debasing ourselves in various ways to feel a sliver of coolness on our disgusting sweaty skins.
The heat affects my mood, and not in a good way. The second I wake up in smothering heat, I dread the day. I am not built for this. I am from Scottish and Irish stock; I shouldn’t be under the Australian sun, getting burned in places I didn’t even know the sun could see. I should be shivering in a shawl in the mud with some sheep. I should be in the pouring rain getting inspiration for my sad and yearning folk songs. Colonisation isn’t just a violent blight on humanity, it’s also just really stupid of us.
Admittedly, I have never experienced a winter anywhere but Australia. I am sure my distaste and anguish over 40C days would be slightly mitigated if I experienced long stretches of 5C days. I’m sure I would start to feel a bit gloomy and yearn for the Australian heat. But in my current reality, it’s much easier to get warm than cold. I can live in my badly insulated rotting house, not built to withstand any weather at all, and put on socks and jackets and get into bed with my hot-water bottle (girlfriend). But I am not equipped to battle the heat that is coming, and certainly not the worse heat that is coming after that, and the worse heat after that (climate crisis).
If you’re a summer lover (slight slur), someone who doesn’t sweat or who likes feeling overheated and burned and dehydrated, good for you. But spare a thought for those of us that will be Sad about it.
• Rebecca Shaw is a writer based in Sydney
As the cold mornings start to ease, and everyone and their hot mothers start to post from the beach, I see friends overseas shivering in fear at the fast-approaching winter, when they will then shiver from the cold. Anytime and anywhere cold months happen, people post about having Sad. Not having sad, which is what I call my depression, but Sad – seasonal affective disorder. For some of these people it is a genuine mood disorder, and some are being hyperbolic (in the way that a portion of people who just like their things to be neat claim to have OCD) – but the point is that there is a common language for people who get miserable in winter. There are products that cater to the winter-haters. There are special lamps and alarm clocks that mimic outdoor light (not to mention heaters), and I’m glad people have the support to get through it.
Europe’s summer emergency was a dire warning for Australia. What can be learned before it’s too late?
Read more
But you almost never hear about the reverse – the people whose spirits, not just skins, shrivel in the hot sun.
When I complain about the heat, which I do often and loudly, people occasionally comment that I should be used to it, being from Queensland. This might be true for most Queenslanders, however I am from Toowoomba, a place that sits 700 metres above sea level, remaining cooler than most.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy warm weather, or get sick of cold weather. I’m normal. My perfect weather is 26C, blue sky with a few clouds and a slight cooling breeze. But in Sydney, on this ever-hotter planet, I experience this perfect weather for approximately two weeks of the year. Then it tips into uncomfortably hot, then unbearably hot, and finally into maybe I want to die hot. Sure, there are fun parts in there. There are happy friends, being outside, beers, being outside with friends having beers, and most importantly, stone fruit. A perfectly ripe peach offsets approximately three hours of doom feelings.
But the fun things about summer are really only fun if you can get some relief, and if you can get some sleep.
This is where air conditioner privilege comes in. I have never lived in a house with air conditioning. When people say they love summer, I presume they either have air conditioning or are lying. If you sleep in air conditioning, wake up in air conditioning, drive your air-conditioned car to your air-conditioned workplace and then to the beach and then back to your air-conditioned home, of course you bloody love summer. You get to dip in and out of it, while people like me are sticking to every surface, draping wet towels over fans that blow warm air around, gilding ourselves with frozen peas, lying in cold baths, lurking extensively in bottle-o cold rooms, going to movies we would never otherwise pay to see, mopping our brows and boobs and various crevices, and generally debasing ourselves in various ways to feel a sliver of coolness on our disgusting sweaty skins.
The heat affects my mood, and not in a good way. The second I wake up in smothering heat, I dread the day. I am not built for this. I am from Scottish and Irish stock; I shouldn’t be under the Australian sun, getting burned in places I didn’t even know the sun could see. I should be shivering in a shawl in the mud with some sheep. I should be in the pouring rain getting inspiration for my sad and yearning folk songs. Colonisation isn’t just a violent blight on humanity, it’s also just really stupid of us.
Admittedly, I have never experienced a winter anywhere but Australia. I am sure my distaste and anguish over 40C days would be slightly mitigated if I experienced long stretches of 5C days. I’m sure I would start to feel a bit gloomy and yearn for the Australian heat. But in my current reality, it’s much easier to get warm than cold. I can live in my badly insulated rotting house, not built to withstand any weather at all, and put on socks and jackets and get into bed with my hot-water bottle (girlfriend). But I am not equipped to battle the heat that is coming, and certainly not the worse heat that is coming after that, and the worse heat after that (climate crisis).
If you’re a summer lover (slight slur), someone who doesn’t sweat or who likes feeling overheated and burned and dehydrated, good for you. But spare a thought for those of us that will be Sad about it.
• Rebecca Shaw is a writer based in Sydney
