First published by The Times on 12 August 2020
Since brain-melting, soul-flattening heatwaves now seem to be an annual feature of life in certain parts of the UK, we all need to get better at dealing with them. I have spent the past week in a cold bath, curtains drawn and electric fan inches from my face, wheezing with bad-tempered effort as I type the words “It’s so hot” and send them repeatedly to everyone I know.
It was all quite idyllic when I first bought the fan in May — a 42in John Lewis tower, alas now sold out. “I love fan. Fan never lets me down,” I texted to a friend in June. “It’s probably going to break down at some point,” he replied, plunging me into an anxiety that I’ve been living with since.
It hasn’t broken yet, but the heat has outstripped it. Last week the temperature outside reached 36C, and although I still feel fondness and respect for fan, it turns out fan is not a miracle worker: it has gone from producing an icy breeze to a sub-Saharan waft.
It isn’t just during the day. We have had a run of “tropical nights”, when temperatures stay above 20C. Traditionally, tropical nights are rare in the UK and only happened eight times between 1961 and 1995 . Not so in 2020 — by Tuesday we’d had 16 this year.
I don’t know the exact temperature in my flat during the night, but I’d estimate it at about 1,000 degrees. My hair has expanded horizontally and my face has taken on the look of clammy ham. This is nature’s way of discouraging potential mates because sex in this weather could be deadly — there just aren’t the bodily fluids to go round.
If you want to sleep, a fan is undoubtedly your best bet, but if you don’t have one already, forget it: most retailers have sold out. As soon as the weather gets dreary again, buy one and congratulate yourself heartily next year.
In the meantime fill a hot-water bottle with cold water and put it in the freezer; keep the top loose (so the expanding ice doesn’t split the rubber) and angle it on a box of fish fingers or similar so that it doesn’t spill before freezing.
At bedtime close the lid tightly, put a cover on to prevent ice burn, then take it to bed with you. This helped me to get semi-reasonable sleep during previous heatwaves; ice packs will do the same job, but you might need more of them.
The rule on curtains and windows is only open them when it’s warmer inside your home than outside. That means keep them closed during the day, then open them at sunset, in a desperate attempt to let the heat out before sleep.
Go to bed in the buff. You could also try keeping a pair of cotton socks in the freezer and popping them on at bedtime – but if this proves so effective in cooling you down that sex starts to seem like a good idea after all, remember to take them off before attempting to seduce your partner.
The naked sleeping thing is common sense, so I withdraw my sympathy if you’ve been suffering restless nights in your polyester pyjamas, but if you really can’t bear sleeping naked, try loose bamboo nightwear. It’s a soft fabric made from fibres of the plant, and it pulls sweat away from your skin and helps to regulate your temperature.
The worst news is that drinking to oblivion will only make this worse. Booze is bad for sleep in general — it prevents you from entering the most restorative levels of sleep, and wakes you during the night — but it will also exacerbate your dehydration, which is no good when you’re already waking up with a mouth like a sandpit.
However, when you’ve spent ten daytime hours repeatedly wiping sweat off your top lip, nothing provides such relief and refreshment as an ice-cold beer — so I’m ignoring this advice and so, I assume, will you.