Nothing could have prepared me for the UK’s heat (Image: Vita Molyneux)
I grew up in New Zealand, a sub-tropical island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean where the sun shines for 2,000 hours every year. It’s world famous for its laid-back summer culture and gorgeous beaches. Two years ago I gave it all up and moved to London, and like a fool I thought my upbringing would be enough for me to cope in the UK’s summer.
This week’s heatwave has taught me a valuable lesson: no matter how hot and miserable you feel, you can always feel hotter and even more miserable.
Even though I grew up in a country that most people see as being some sort of summer wonderland, I have never in my life experienced heat like this. The past few days have felt like trying to live inside an air fryer and I am that little crumb that keeps getting fried over and over again until it’s an unrecognisable husk.
To add insult to injury, if you need to leave the house for any reason you have to cram yourself onto a bus where the windows almost never open, in order to get yourself underground to a train that hasn’t been updated for almost ten years, where the best you can hope for is a waft of smoggy tunnel air sweeping through the carriage when the doors open.
I had to cross the city yesterday with a suitcase, and by the time I got to where I was going I had sweated out what felt like half of my body weight, my shirt was soaked through and I was on the verge of tears.
I would have cried if I felt like I could have risked any more water loss without turning into a raisin, and that is a feeling that I never once experienced in New Zealand.
One of the things that makes heatwaves in the UK so brutal is the infrastructure. Not only are homes built to seal in as much heat as possible, but in London where the buildings tower on either side of the street it feels like the heat gets trapped between the pavement and the sky and presses down from all sides.
There is no escape from it and even when the sun has disappeared below the horizon it’s still excruciating.
I do love how the heat brings everyone together (Image: Getty)
There’s also a serious lack of spots to cool off. I have never lived more than a 15-minute drive from a beach, but in London it’s either cram on to a train to the seaside with a thousand other desperate sweaty people, or head to one of the lidos. In recent weeks I have tried both of these methods and they bring only a temporary relief.
Despite the nightmarish temperatures, there are a few things I love about London when the sun comes out. I find it incredibly charming how everyone collectively loses their minds and heads straight out in bikinis or board shorts to whatever patch of grass they can find, soaking up the sun as they know it can’t possibly last.
It also seems to work as a unifier — everyone is in a better mood, and the unbearable train journey becomes a little easier when the girl next to you angles her hand held fan to your face, or the guy opposite shoots you a sympathetic smile as the sweat drips down his forehead. It’s also a great opportunity for small talk — something British people have turned into a fine art that I am still trying to master. Every person I talk to, from the woman behind the bar to the man who does my nails, has something to say about the weather or a tip to tell me so that I can cool down.
It’s this sweaty camaraderie that makes the stifling heat almost worth it — but I’d probably still rather be on the beach.