Staying in for the Summer

But I dream things that never were; and I say, “Why not?”

George Bernard Shaw, from “Back to Methuselah”

     I was watching the Cathode Ray of the a.m. today & was confronted by the following information: The Powers that Be are going to inform us when it’s a heatwave. They’ve even made up little numbers to attach to them. Here they are:


“Level 1: Summer preparedness and long-term planning(Green)
During the summer months, social and healthcare services need to ensure that awareness and background preparedness are maintained by the measures set out in the Heatwave Plan.

Level 2: Alert and readiness(Yellow)
This is triggered as soon as the Met Office forecasts that there is a 60 per cent chance of temperatures being high enough on at least two consecutive days to have significant effects on health

Level 3: Heatwave action(Amber)
This is triggered as soon as the Met Office confirms that threshold temperatures have been reached in any one region or more.

Level 4: Emergency(Red)
This is reached when a heatwave is so severe and/or prolonged that its effects extend outside health and social care, such as power or water shortages, and/or where the integrity of health and social care systems is threatened. 

     This is extraordinary. What ever happened to knowing the forecast temperature. All of a sudden that’s too much information to handle. No, now we are no longer trusted to peruse the old brass thermometer and mutter “Cor Blimey, Stone the crows, it’s a scorcher!” Dear boy, leave not the old abode as we’re on alert level 3! I particulary like the way that they haven’t quite understood the concept of the traffic-light system. Where the hell does yellow get off. I’m sorry sir your colour doesn’t appear to be on the guest list. It really is worth reading the advice. It’s beauracratic gibberish if you sit down & read the detail. Some of the advice is really great: Children are advised to stay out of the sun between “11am and 3pm” Great! Looking forward to the summer? Well, you can look but not touch little Johnnie. The advise for the crumblies is no better : “make sure that they know what they should be doing” There may be a hint of egg-sucking there.

Nope, no yellow

Nope, no yellow

     It’s not just weather that we’re now being warned about. Everything’s being reduced to level and grades. Clearly, the old days of being able to simply “process” a piece of information is beyond us. They’ve done the same to terrorist to the tiny swine-flu virus. I notice the Meterolical Office also have the same sort of system for “extreme weather.” We can’t just have stormy or rainy : it’s got to sound really dangerous. What would Noah have made of it? I also note they use that yellowy traffic light too.

Now, some times this is useful. Some categories work. The fairer gender have always picked out their haberdasheries in “sizes.” Although, I’ve never quite understood where they came from. And why not men? Perhaps we like being measured too much. The fact that dress sizes change as well is a tad confusing as they based upon statistical analysis of the population. Ho hum.

Of course some are more peculiar than others. If you want to know your hat size, you need to measure the circumference of your head (in inches, Dr. Brunel) and divide by п. Just don’t ask. Abraham Lincoln was 71/8 don’t you know.

     Well, enough of that. I’m going to ignore advice & pop out. I have decided that the only way to explore the ghastly hole (see previous entry) is to employ the talents of the loathesome Tiberius Nemo. I shudder at the thought! He is the only man in England who can help me. However, mark my words, I will never see an octopus will ever cry itself to sleep because of me. Time for a trip to the Teapot.

Must be off!

Must be off!


1 Response to “Staying in for the Summer”

  1. June 29, 2009 at 1:11 pm

    I must first compliment you on your stovepipe (bottom photo). Hat sizes are rapidly becoming the bane of my life. Most of my hats will now only fit me if I am standing dead centre of a lay line. Something to do with temperature and Shatner’s Bassoon, I’m told. Anyway, I’ve thrown caution to the wind and cake at my milliner. I’ve got three homburgs that are now far too snug and a twill trilby that’s as limp as a lettuce. Enough of bureaucratic grading systems, I’m off to buy some turbot for my luncheon.

    Good luck with Dr Brunel, if you happen upon him. Off to the “Teapot”? By Gad, it’s the middle of the day!

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