By Satish Aparajit
July is the month we eagerly look forward to—our annual “pilgrimage” to visit our daughter and grandsons, usually for almost three months. The preparations begin a month in advance. Trips to the local markets become a daily affair as we hunt for something different and exciting to keep the grandchildren occupied during their summer vacation. There are also the usual demands for clothes in particular colours and styles—because, apparently, grandparents are expected to understand fashion trends that change faster than the weather.
Of course, every such shopping expedition inevitably ends at one of our favourite cafés for coffee. One has to maintain some traditions.
This year, however, we were repeatedly warned about the possible impact of El Niño and an unusually hot European summer. We checked temperatures across the UK and concluded that perhaps the warnings were somewhat exaggerated. We packed accordingly: some light summer clothes, but also a few jackets for the cooler conditions one normally associates with a British summer.
We landed at Heathrow to a pleasant 19°C in the early evening. Perfect, we thought. Clearly, we had outsmarted the weather gods.
For a week or so, the weather behaved itself. Then, quite suddenly, the pattern changed. The BBC weather map began resembling an artist’s palette, with large swathes of yellow and orange spreading across the British Isles. Heatwave warnings followed, accompanied by familiar advice: stay indoors, keep hydrated and, particularly for children and the elderly, avoid going out during the hottest part of the day.
For Indians, temperatures of 28–29°C hardly sound like a national emergency. Back home that is almost picnic weather. But Britain is different. With relatively low pollution and strong sunshine, 28°C can feel surprisingly intense. And, more importantly, British houses, offices and public buildings are simply not designed for sustained heat.
Suddenly, air-conditioners were being snapped up from department stores like hot cakes—mostly compact, portable units, many of them made in China. Fans too became precious commodities. In some shops we visited, they were simply sold out.
From an Indian male’s point of view, there was another interesting development: the streets and parks suddenly acquired a new fashion statement—minimal clothing accompanied by a hand-held, battery-operated fan. One could hardly blame anyone. British summer fashion had apparently been redesigned by the Met Office.
Parks were packed, helped by the school holidays. Children running around in the sunshine soon resembled overgrown tomatoes—bright red, sweaty and constantly demanding bottled water, ice creams and cold drinks.
But the most striking sight was the countryside.
The grass in parks, playing fields and domestic lawns had turned brown and brittle. Britain normally relies on nature to do the watering. Why invest in elaborate irrigation when rain is expected to arrive sooner or later? This time, however, “sooner or later” seemed to have become “perhaps next year”.
After weeks without meaningful rain, dust began rising from playing fields—a sight one rarely associates with Britain. Even golf courses were suffering. Fairways became hard and dry, while greens continued to receive the necessary attention and watering. Having spent enough time around golf courses, I can confirm that a dry fairway is not necessarily a golfer’s friend. The ball may travel further, but the body often pays the price.
Cricket was another casualty. Dry, rock-hard playing surfaces meant that players fielding close to the wicket faced a greater risk of injury. Watching a few lower-level county matches provided ample first-hand evidence that British summer cricket was beginning to resemble an outdoor endurance sport.
And then there was public transport.
Unlike India’s modern Metro systems, where air-conditioning is generally taken for granted, many older underground trains in London have little or no conventional air-conditioning. During a heatwave, travelling underground can therefore become an exercise in endurance. Add a crowded carriage, a few degrees of extra heat and the combined aroma of perspiration and generous applications of perfume, and one begins to understand why some passengers emerge looking as though they have completed a gym session.
Westminster too has its own problems. The Palace of Westminster is a magnificent nineteenth-century building, but it was hardly designed with modern heatwaves in mind. Large parts rely on traditional or legacy ventilation systems, with mechanical cooling available only in certain areas. There have been occasions when MPs have been permitted to remove their jackets during particularly hot weather.
Perhaps this explains some of the passion we see inside Parliament. With temperatures rising outside and tempers rising inside, British politics sometimes appears to have its own climate-change problem.
All this raises a larger question.
World leaders attend endless international conferences on climate change and global warming. They deliver impressive speeches, sign declarations and promise ambitious targets. Yet the consequences of a changing climate are no longer confined to distant glaciers, polar ice caps or vulnerable island nations. They are increasingly visible in places that traditionally enjoyed moderate weather.
Britain has long been synonymous with rain, drizzle and unpredictable sunshine. A British summer without rain was once something to celebrate. Today, prolonged absence of rain can become a problem in itself.
Whether this particular spell of extreme weather can be attributed entirely to El Niño is a matter for scientists. But there is little doubt that the climate is changing and that countries accustomed to relatively mild summers will have to adapt.
For Indians holidaying in Europe, there may even be a silver lining: no need to pack woollens for July. But the travel industry may have to rethink its famous sales pitch of “cool European summers”. At this rate, the losers could be the travel agents selling Europeans an escape from the heat—and the winners may be the manufacturers of portable air-conditioners and battery-operated fans.
Perhaps the message from nature is quite simple: enjoy the sunshine, by all means—but don’t take the climate for granted.
The next time someone tells us that Europe is the place to escape the Indian summer, it may be worth checking the weather forecast first.
And perhaps packing a fan.
(Satish Aparajit is a retired IAF Wing Commander and Shaurya Chakra awardee.)
