Remember How You Felt Today....

Remember this day.

As I type an amber extreme heat warning is in place and we’re bracing ourselves for 38 degrees in London but the app tells me it’ll feel closer to early 40s. The pavements will shimmer in the heat. Windows will be closed and curtains drawn. Everyone will move at half speed. People who cannot avoid taking the bus will look utterly miserable - heads down, sweating, just trying to get through it. It’ll be reminiscent of that record-breaking first heatwave back in early June – which now seems like a long time and so many sweltering days ago – which took us all by surprise with its ferocity.

I have friends who live all over the UK, so I know it wasn’t quite as bad where they are in Scotland, Wales or the North of England. But here in London, where I live, I remember that first heatwave as so oppressive we could barely function. Throughout the course of the week, I actually became depressed as melting and malfunctioning transport systems, closed schools (where I work) and cancelled meetings meant my diary was all-but totally cleared. It was too hot to do any of the leisure activities that usually bring me joy – dancing, running, cooking – even reading felt like too much of an effort through the fog of my heat-addled brain. There was nothing to do other than wait for it to pass.

I found myself reflecting on that spoken Bowie lyric at the start of Modern Love ‘I know when to go out. I know when to stay in. Get things done’ because – unless you were possessed of the rare privilege which allowed you to glide from air-conditioned car to air-conditioned building - it was almost impossible to do any of those things. In my memory that week is not yellow with sunshine but grey with misery.

The heatwaves that followed weren’t quite as savage as the first. They have been, however, relentless. Every day we wake up and ask ourselves ‘will it be over 30 today and if so what do I need to do to survive?’. Hosepipe bans have left parks and gardens as arid tinder boxes. There have been wildfires. Almost 3,000 people have died who wouldn’t have done under normal summer conditions. Pets and wildlife have struggled to cope. Farmers have warned there will be food shortages because of poor harvests. 71 percent of England is officially in drought. There cost to the economy in lost productivity and stressed infrastructure is in the billions.

As climate scientists warn that the summer of 2027 could be even hotter, all but the most blithe/idiotic are terrified. A few outliers are still insisting that we should simply stop moaning and ‘embrace a Mediterranean lifestyle’ (forgetting that we do not have Mediterranean infrastructure – our country is simply not built for these temperatures. An estimated 92% of our housing stock is in danger of overheating, meaning it will become unsafe to inhabit by 2050). Presumably in Italy fossil fuel sponsored blowhards are advising citizens to ‘embrace a South Asian lifestyle’ and in South Asia the equivalent headline reads ‘chill out and embrace your fiery death’.

People who’ve never been arsed about climate change have suddenly got it this summer. The evidence is irrefutable. The urgency has kicked up a notch.

My question is, though, how do we harness this public momentum and keep it going after temperatures ease and during what is likely, thanks to El Nino, to be an unusually cold winter?

When I asked this question on social media, some responded by saying individual hearts and minds weren’t important in the general scheme of things. All the recycling and responsible purchasing in the world won’t offset the damage currently being done by corporations and governments, they argued.

I’d invite those people to reflect on Andy Burnham’s intervention to stop the early release from prison of two of the killers of PC Harper earlier this week. The Prime Minister cited the ‘depth of public feeling’ on the issue as part of his motivation for taking action. In other words, what we obviously care about is informing policy – If it becomes apparent that British people are deeply invested in our government doing more to prevent climate catastrophe, then we’ll (hopefully) see something better than the pathetic mutterings about disposable barbeques which have come out of No10 so far.

But all of this depends on us remembering the fear we felt on days like today. So, commit it to memory. Store it in your mind somewhere that’s easily accessible. And if the promised rain does indeed materialize at the weekend, remind yourself that the respite is only temporary.