I have spotted a pattern. Yeap. I have found a way of detecting the mood of The Strawberry Blond Hand Grenade, (TSBHG), first thing in a morning, a teenage weathervane so to speak.
Yeap. if I say to her, as my first words of the day to her, ‘Morning Gorgeous’ or ‘Morning Beautiful’ then the response is indicative of the mood of the day.
If the response is ‘Don’t call me that’ or complete silence then the weather forecast is poor and quite frankly I ought to put on my extreme survival kit and brace myself for a tornado sort of a day.
If the response is ‘Hello’, then the forecast is fair and while there may be the odd shower and maybe an occasional rumble of thunder and flash of lightning.
If the response is ‘Morning Mum, You OK?’, then the forecast is for sunshine, absolute minimal risk of showers or gale force winds – but you can never say never, so better get the flip-flops out and enjoy the weather.
So far today we have had smiles and laughter, but then himself is off work today and when he is around then there is a reversion to ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ and quite frankly butter wouldn’t melt.
So, onto other matters.
Long term readers may well not recall my ramblings in the past about environmental factors here in the land of sand – in particular those inside the house and directly related to temperature.
First of all there is of course the water issue.
Yes, despite what people may assume, water is in plentiful supply here in the land of sand. The fact that it is more expensive than petrol is irrelevant, there is water in plentiful supply.
However, at this time of the year, when the outside temperature is pushing 50℃ then the water in the pipes as it gets to the house gets pretty hot en route.
As a result, at this time of year you go way out of your way to get cold water – at almost any cost.
Now, readers may recall my make shift attempts last year at creating a cold water shower solution which were kiboshed by The Small Testosterone Filled one, (TSTFO).
Well, you will be pleased to hear that this year I have restrained myself and have not attempted such a solution and have instead just decided to take the right hook that is no cold water on the chin in true British fashion.
However, there is of course the other matter which quite frankly makes a hot shower a welcome addition.
Yes, the air-conditioning.
Once again, this has been the subject of a post in the past, (Air-Conditioning Trauma), I feel that at the moment my plight is such that it needs mention again.
You see himself is heat phobic – not good when you live in the land of sand. Any hint of an increase in temperature and panic ensues, only on his part I hasten to add.
So, that means the writing on the wall as regards the ambient temperature in the house.
Now, in the past I have been rescued to a certain extent by the rather dodgy air-conditioning which coughed and spluttered and struggled to maintain himself’s arctic requirements.
However, I now have a problem as the house. (in fact every house on the compound), has had its air-conditioning replaced with new, modern, digital, highly efficient air-conditioning units.
They shine, they hang majestically in each room and other random places.
They work. Well.
So, himself is in heat-phobic heaven.
Finally he can set a freezing temperature and be confident that the ambient temperature of that room will soon match that which shines out from the digital display.
That is bad news for me and TSBHG, (TSTFO takes after himself and is quite happy in arctic conditions).
Yes, we are frozen.
TSBHG now routinely sits with her duvet on her, not that she will blame her beloved Dad for her discomfort, oh no. Somehow, someway, the ambient temperature in the house is my fault.
I have taken to making sure I permanently have thick socks on as well as my fleece jacket.
Now the easily forgotten part about this dilemma is that despite the freezing, baltic temperatures inside the house it is still anywhere between 45 – 50℃.
So, once vaguely warm and wandering around inside in a fleece and woolly socks, you inadvertently go outside for whatever reason.
Firstly, you open the door and are greeted by a blast of hot air from the world’s biggest hair-dryer at full belt and on top temperature.
Next, you wonder outside to find that your body temperature has soared like a mercury thermometer being thrown into a furness.
Your woolly socks become nuclear thermal storage units and the inside of your fleece becomes hotter than Adam Peaty in a hot tub.
You rapidly retreat back indoors to find that your body overcompensates and the heat deserts you, you get colder than ever and usually have to revery to yet another layer.
I have considered putting signs on the inside of the doors to remind myself to remove all extra thermal layers before exiting and to be honest today’s post may well prompt me towards that action.
But whatever action I take it does not alter the fact that it is baltic in our house. My sinuses freeze every time I breath in.
On the occasions that I do remember how hot it is outside I have been known to take off the extra layers and stand outside for a few seconds just to thaw out.
It works – as long as I race to put back on the extra layers when I come back in.
Oh, the issues involved in living in the land of sand.
Right, best I head off and take full benefit of the fact that himself is at home and enjoy the good weather which is predicted by the teenage weathervane.