From beach etiquette to tropical nights, and full-on picnic envy; why this hectic heatwave has us meeting ourselves coming backwards

WE’VE entered that wonderful stage of the summer where no one is quite sure what day it is, or even what date it is for that matter (it’s still July right?). And it’s wonderful. The weather has played a blinder obviously and is responsible for joie de vivre hanging over the entire country. It’s so easy to enjoy the everyday things when the skies are blue and there’s heat on your back. And who knew that Irish skin could actually tan if it got half a chance? The only thing now is that we’re in danger of burn out.

People are still talking about the 1976 heatwave in revered tones, and we’re feeling the pressure not to waste a minute of the 2026 one either. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t slept properly in weeks because your house is a furnace, no slacking allowed! No sitting down either! We’re going to meet ourselves coming backwards from the beach at this stage, taking in multiple swims a day and each time, we tiptoe in gingerly, convinced someone will have flicked the switch and it will be back to being Baltic. And each time we’re still amazed that the water temperature is more than just pleasant, it’s actually warm. All you can hear is people saying ‘this is the life isn’t it?’ ‘what’s the water like today?’ ‘sure where else would you want to be?,’ ‘Did you get parking alright?’ It’s gas.

That’s the only spanner in the works, the fact that parking is getting very tight at my local beach – and every other one in West Cork too I’d imagine. It doesn’t help that I’m not great at parking, particularly parallel parking and it turns out that wing mirrors are surprisingly expensive to replace. A family arrived at the beach on a RIB the other day and it looked the business.  I said it to my husband and he suggested I might try a bike. No chance. I value my life too much – the roads are gone bonkers busy. Something else that’s a bit bonkers is some people’s behaviour at the beach. At this stage I’ve featured in more random strangers’ videos than I care for. I may even have gone viral and not realised it! There’s so many people creating content on my  beach that I have to do a quick sweep of the strand to make sure the coast is clear before getting out of the water. I’m no Ursula Andress, just a middle-aged woman (I mentioned I haven’t slept in weeks right?) doing her best.

There I am, readjusting my swim suit, getting rid of those annoying air bubbles in the front, pulling it up and pulling it down and hoping for the best, when I spot someone doing a panoramic shot of the beach, with me in all my glory. Head off like! We don’t do that sort of ‘thing’ around here. I even saw someone setting up with a tripod at the weekend, it looked like she had a whole production team with her! What’s next? Beach yoga? Ah stop. You might say I’ve double standards because while it’s down with tripods, I’m obsessed with beach gear in general. My sister got me this life changing little folding table that elevates the entire beach visit. It aligns with my inner Hyacinth Bouquet.

Then I got myself one of those trolleys which was a complete impulse purchase that I thought I’d be half embarrassed using but it’s the bees knees. You can put the world and his mother in there, and you’d still have room for his father. Best of all, it saves you lugging your beach chairs. Speaking of which, beach chairs have gone next level this summer. Mine are so old I can’t even remember where they came from but I’m seeing loads of people with full on folding sun beds, and others that have a little side table and multiple pockets attached. Super swanky. I’m also intrigued by people’s picnics. We started off very well –  cute table cloth; crudites with dips; salads; sourdough sandwiches; gourmet crisps – we even treated ourselves to a glass of rosé one evening. Sure …. this is the life right! A few weeks in, I find myself looking into the fridge and grabbing an apple that already has a bite out of it, strawberries that look like they’ve seen better days like myself; sliced pan and a packet of Tayto. Obviously, I don’t bother with the folding table on those days and say very loudly ‘this is just a snack now, we’ll be having dinner when we get home.’ Yeah, right!

Anyway, are we all bereft now the World Cup is over? Me neither. I’m possibly the only person who didn’t watch a single game of the entire tournament – besides a few minutes of  Madonna’s performance at half time (how old is she again?). It’s a beautiful game and all, but not for me. And don’t come for me, but is there some relief that we’re spared the angst of looking for All Ireland tickets this year? Silver linings? No? Okay, back to business. My kitchen should be declared a health hazard and shut down it’s all so sticky and icky; my windows are next level filthy (blame the flies), and there’s sand in places where it definitely shouldn’t be, but who cares. The mid-summer madness is kicking in. Are we doing enough? Are we summering hard enough? Is everything epic? Are we hashtag blessed, hashtag living our best lives?

My current bedside reading is The Southern Star’s ‘Things to See and Do in West Cork this Summer’ (get yourself a copy if you don’t have one), and I’m feverishly marking off things to … well, see and do. A day trip to an offshore island is on the cards this week.  I know the younger generation don’t see the attraction in walking for the sake of walking so I’ve committed to bringing the paddle board on the ferry. Let’s see how that goes. Maybe I should bring the trolley too? I must just look up ferry times and we’re all set. Just one thing … what day is it?

Emma’s picnics started off with salads and gourmet crisps, they’ve become a more of a Tatyo sambo and dinner at home affair. (Photo: Shutterstock.com)