From sweaty mess to marine queen, cold water therapy really is the cure of all cures in this heat

AFTER the past few weeks, I can safely say that middle-aged me is not built for anything over 28 degrees. Actually, make that 26. Anything hotter and I’m not just a sweaty mess, my brain turns to mush faster than a 99 in a heatwave, and I can’t do anything that is usually required of an adult such as making sound decisions, making the dinner, making conversation, basically making sense of any kind. The only thing that saved me from tipping over the verge has been going for swims (even if I kept getting the tide times wrong – blame the woolly brain). I arrive at the beach, fling down my bag, stagger towards the sea, submerge myself in the mercifully cold water, and emerge feeling like a new woman. It’s the only heatwave fix for me. There was one night alright when the water was a bit murky, and I couldn’t see the millions of jelly fish lurking underfoot which was deeply unpleasant but besides that I can vouch that cold water therapy is the cure of all cures. Oh, there was another evening I got a Weever fish sting which is every bit as sore as people say it is, but all things considered I’ve never ever been so grateful to live within minutes of the sea.

I think it was the saving grace for loads of other people too. On any given evening you’d see farmers arriving after evening milking, having survived a pit that was hotter than hell; people who looked like they had come straight from work and were in need of salvation and others coming from training sessions (heatwave or not it’s still championship season). In fact one evening, none other than the Taoiseach himself arrived for a dip. It’s not that unusual to see Micheál Martin on my local beach as he has strong ties with the area and while everyone tries to act nonchalant, there’s always a bit of a buzz all the same. Anyway we swam off in the opposite direction to give him space – after all, while I was struggling to make the beds in the heat, he was making huge decisions, so I figured that’s the least he deserved. But the next thing, I look back and see my husband in full conversation with him. I tried to catch his eye to say ‘let the man alone!’ but couldn’t manage it. I was in the horrors! ‘What were ye talking about – please don’t say it was the cost of living or climate crisis,’ I hissed a few minutes later when he joined us. ‘The GAA, what else?’ he replied. That’s alright so I suppose.

Anyway, at one point during the week I decided that this must be what it’s like living in Australia. Where you wake up and know that it’s going to be a lovely day, where you throw on a pair of shorts without even looking out the window, where you put clothes on the line in confidence, leave the garden furniture cushions out overnight, delight in your garden that’s blooming without any intervention except watering etc. It was lovely … besides one or two draw backs. The flies for starters. Once I opened the fridge and one flew out. That wasn’t ideal. It was also hard work trying to avoid getting a tan or any new freckles. A tan was my only objective in my 20s and possibly 30s but now it only means one thing: more fine lines and wrinkles and it has to be avoided at all costs. It was exhausting sprinting from parasol to parasol, slathering on factor 50 every hour and trying not to bump into things while wearing an enormous sun visor etc. As hazardous as it sounds.

Sleeping was also a challenge given the heat. I could have opened a window but I’ve a phobia when it comes to open windows at night time. There’s the bogey man for starters and I once saw a documentary that showed rats climbing up walls and creeping in windows and now I can’t unsee it. I got a fan and it does a pretty good job. I don’t mind the sound of it all, in fact I find it quite soothing, like that white noise used to get babies to sleep, but my husband can’t stick it at all. ‘How can stand that whirring noise and then go mad if I so much as breathe?’ he asked. Fair question I suppose! Thank god for spare rooms where he retreated to and I cranked up the fan settings.

Air con is my ultimate fantasy and if anyone is at the new build stage I’d advise to seriously consider it. Reduce the insulation costs, downsize your windows and forget about triple glazing –future you will thank you. And maybe I could come and stay with you for a while? Oh and for anyone interested, my Vinted  sales have slowed to a standstill. I still haven’t sold the swimming togs, heatwave and all. I can only assume that everyone else is as incapable of doing anything constructive as I am. Retail is tough. Right, time for a dip.
Anyone know what the tides are like?