The Heat is On

So, yesterday Auckland recorded its hottest day since temperatures were first taken in 1868. The highest is now 32.4c. The NZ Herald report is a bit ambiguous about the previous high, but it does cite 28.2c recorded earlier this month as being the highest this year. Hot it was, but I would have thought that we had higher temperatures than that in 141 years, and I know that Christchurch and other lesser New Zealand cities can boast of much higher temperatures quite often. But we have to believe what the Met Office tells us; short of their actual forecasts, that is. So, it was 32.4c and unless we managed to escape to the beach or have the facility of air-conditioning to waft the kind of chill down our spine more commonly associated with a tax audit, then we would have had a decidedly uncomfortable day. Indeed I heard many people complain about it, but as I work for a local council and live in a country that contemplates allowing Maori to charge for the haka I am no stranger to complainers. Indeed, I have one or two complaints of my own, one of which I hope to have operated on next month. But I digress. The proponents of climate change will claim that we can expect more of this. And worse. They may well have a point, evidenced by the fact that one of their most visible (and least audible) spokesmen, Keith Locke, has the capacity to raise my temperature at the very mention of his name. But I cannot subscribe to their view. I prefer the Met Office’s explanation that yesterday’s temperature was due to the sudden clearance of cloud along with a gusty northwest wind. The Met Office does however agree with the Greens in their prediction that there will be more of these temperatures. Whilst there will be some who will greet that prospect with delight I think they will diminish in number as the incessant heat takes its toll with a great deal more rapidity than the NZ Transport Agency currently exhibits taking theirs. I myself will have to contemplate going to colder climes. Hamilton is a prospect; for some reason I always feel a chill in the air when I go there. I could probably encounter a chilly reception in Crawford Texas where George W. Bush now resides. If I want real frigidity I most certainly would get it by turning to my wife and suggesting a channel change in the middle of the Australian Tennis Open. She would derive a similar benefit were she to suggest to me that Sex Vixens From Outer Space is any less than the greatest movie of all time. But I am willing and able to bide my time and sit out these high temperatures in the hope that whomever governs our temperatures will soon decide to be a little less playful and impose upon Himself a more pragmatic and compassionate discipline. Otherwise I might be drawn to the terrible thought that Keith may have a point. Hmmmm. I think I’ll turn on Sex Vixens again before its too late. Now they really are HOT!

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