Five tips to beat the heat, whichever House you’re in

It is hotter than a caravan park in hell across most of the Northern Hemisphere right now. And how some of us suffer. While the majority of European cities are built for the heat (not looking at you, the Nordics) here in the UK – where this writer is based – we’re just not set up for it. Anything hotter than 25°C and it’s a heatwave. Which means sweat, and grumpiness all around. Though it is also an unrivalled opportunity to do absolutely nothing – and claim it is on government advice. This seems by far the wisest course, considering that everything seems to fall apart in the summer – buildings, trains, our carefully waxed haircut. Nothing goes well.

 

To help you beat the heat, we have a spotter’s guide to all the cool people you’ll find around the Houses – and how they do it.

The air-con claimer occupies the mat below the unit with the surety of a hippo at a watering hole. For he is the king of this particular jungle. You can tell this by the way he grunts if anyone approaches. After all, this particular king has TikTok videos to make. Curiously, that sportswear he has on, you know the one, made of that stuff that wicks away sweat, has stayed oddly dry. Despite him having been here for five hours. Still though, the top does bring out the width of his shoulders, which is something, and now he has enough vids to see him through to Christmas.

Well lager’s cold, right? I mean, look at the condensation on the glass. And that man on the news, the one with the ‘tache, said we were to stay hydrated. Plus, if you press two pints to the pulse points on your neck it cools your body right down. Or at least, that’s the reason they say they’ve ordered two. They will be asleep by 2. They will remain there for several hours. Like a statue. And like a statue they will draw crowds. Only statues don’t snore.

Here they come, the last of the dandies. Or rather the first of the dandies in their year at Slade to get membership. And no one can deny they’ve put in effort. That Enfants Riches Déprimés T-shirt only just landed on Matches. And it goes rather well with those black and white billowing Kapital trousers. The bolero hat might be a touch much. But if it’s good enough for the bull fighters of Andalusia, it’s good enough for them. They haven’t moved now in three hours, but at least that means they haven’t worked up a sweat. That new hat is far too expensive for perspiration. How they will explain it appearing on their mum’s Amex is a bridge yet to be crossed.

They have survived forest fires and dozens of 24-hour flights in their time, they smirk in the face of discomfort. And they don’t mind telling you about it. If we’d saved a koala from an aflame something, we’d probably want people to know about it too, I suppose. They don’t even recognise the bit of the thermometer where 34°C lives. ‘45, mate, now that is hot,’ they say hazily, every hour, with an enormous smile. You’ll find them sunbathing at midday. They will stay until 7pm. They are iron painted as wood.

They got their lifesaving badge at 10 and can hold their breath for six and a half minutes. They are the sea. Or in this case, the pool, a shady corner of which they have occupied since 9am, doing a single length every 25 minutes. Although they’ve been in a bikini, in water, for seven hours, their skin does not crinkle. Perhaps this is a gift from the water gods? Who can say. One thing we can say is that you’d better not splash their newly coiffed hair, if you know what’s good for you. And, well, we do.