There’s something annoying when you listen to the radio and the London-based presenter is babbling on about the heat.
What they don’t understand is that quite often the country is basking in baking sunshine while in Edinburgh we are living in a cloud – the dreaded haar.
“It’ll burn off soon” says everyone and sometimes it does. And sometimes it doesn’t.
Anyway, I was down south last weekend and I understand exactly why they keep talking about switching on the air conditioners and rubbing factor 50 all over.
It was so hot and not in a nice way at all. London doesn’t have beaches on which you can lie, every so often nipping into some cool water to adjust your body temperature.
There doesn’t seem to be any breeze and frankly it’s just all a bit horrible standing there with sweat dripping down the back of your neck.
Sunday was particularly hot and it was typical that as we drove around the M25 the traffic suddenly ground to a halt for 45 minutes.
We were in my daughter’s old banger and I now know what it’s like to be a cup of water in a jackaroo’s billycan.
I have no idea what temperature it got to sitting in that little car, but I suppose I lost a few pounds and saved on going to a sauna.
Later we were watching the final of the men’s singles competition at Wimbledon and I realised that those two guys were actually running around in the same heat.
I could hardly walk to the sink in order to fill a glass of water.
No wonder, I thought, that Andy Murray sits in a bath of ice cubes after playing a match. I quite fancied doing just that on Sunday afternoon.
When we got off the plane later in the evening my husband turned and said, “Oh, isn’t that breeze fantastic.”
So next time Steve Wright talks about the great weather I won’t shout at the radio. To be honest he can keep that heat and I’ll enjoy the haar.