TV Weather forecasters need diversity awareness training – some of us are thermophobes

There is no such thing as a “lovely day” in London where the temperature is much above 70º Fahrenheit. It is 78º outside as I write this. I've just been out for a (very) brief walk and it's horrible. If it wasn't for a slight breeze, it would be revolting. In rural and coastal areas, the cut-off point for loveliness is around 77º, depending on whether it’s humid or not (there is no such thing as a lovely day when one is sweating like a pig).

I’m only too aware that I may be in a minority here – I’ve been astonished over the years to discover how many people I know seem to relish murderous discomfort: several have willingly spent most of their adult lives in what I imagine to be broiling hell-holes; another whizzes off to tropical rain-forests whenever she can manage it; another has set up a permanent office in Abu Dhabi (in addition to their London HQ) which they love visiting – not despite, but because of the heat; a close relative spent years in Australia and evidently enjoyed the experience (apart from the life-threatening insects).

Me, I remember having a wee in Egypt and being disconcerted to discover that it was so hot, the old chap was practically cauterised – which can’t be a good sign; almost passing out on a visit to Ephesus and having to gulp down several litres of water to recover; having to be led, confused, by a doorman back into the air-conditioned lobby of a Las Vegas hotel after being coshed by the midday heat; semi-hallucinating as I walked through San Antonio freight yards under a homicidal sun; trying to get to sleep under a water-soaked sheet during a particularly vicious Venetian heatwave… And worse – worse by far – I remember those disgusting journeys in packed London tube trains when the temperature has climbed into the 90s and the humidity's high enough to cause projectile sweating, and there’s no f@!*ing air-conditioning!!!

I realise that none of these experiences is in the least bit remarkable and that everyone reading this will have far more interesting and extreme heat tales – which still leaves the question of why anybody enjoys extreme heat. You feel dirty, your senses are disarranged, you’re at risk of heat exhaustion and/or skin cancer, your brain can’t function… in other words, you end up feeling like Alec Guinness’s Col. Nicholson emerging from the sweat box in Bridge on the River Kwai. 

Cold, on the other hand, I love – at least the levels of cold most of us are ever likely to experience. It sharpens the brain, quickens the senses, makes you feel alive. And, if it’s too cold, the remedies are always close to hand – crank up the central heating or put on more clothes or both. In other words, you can visit a cold country and never really feel cold, while, in my experience, it’s virtually impossible to visit a hot country and keep cool.

I’m a reasonable sort of chap, and I realise this isn’t a question of me being right and others wrong – thermophilia doesn’t betoken moral or aesthetic failings. But given how achingly sensitive we have to be about everyone else’s cultural, religious, racial, sexual and physical sensitivities, could I just ask that TV weather forecasters stop making implicit value judgments when it comes to telling us what the weather's going to be like. An expected temperature in London of, say, 80º, is not necessarily a cause for beaming smiles and universal rejoicing – it always makes my heart sink, as I know it’ll mean a day of feeling even more lethargic and useless than normal.

Roll on autumn!