Roasting

 I've posted about heatwaves before. But this week is shaping up to be diabolical. Consider this forecast on the BBC on Monday 22 June for London.

Some other forecasters suggest highs close to 40c. Temperatures at this level are currently experienced in southern and central Europe and the bulge of extremely hot air is moving north.

It will be a little easier in beautiful Warwickshire where I now live and quite comfortable in Northumberland, where, by a staggering stroke of luck, I and Mrs C. happen to be on holiday. 

I shall update this post over the next few days and we will see if some of the more apocalyptic scenarios play themselves out.

Update: Tuesday 23

Very pleasant for us, touring around the Etal estate, the site of the bloody battle of Flodden and the almost chilly (when the sea breeze was blowing) Lindisfarne. The hottest part of the day (28c) was when we returned to our hotel in the late afternoon. 

Meanwhile in France: 42c in Bordeaux and 40 people said to have died from drowning caused by going into cold rivers and lakes.  At home, a violent electrical storm struck London, which did indeed reach the 36c forecast. Many schools are closed. And a man called Burn'em is about to replace Starmer as Labour leader and prime minister. Seems appropriate.

Update: Wednesday 24

We visited Alnwick Castle and Cragside (the most advanced house in terms of mod cons at the end of the 19c), and it was very comfortable sitting outside in the shade.

Meanwhile, here is the headline in The Guardian:

UK records its hottest June day, beating highs from 1957 and 1976

Temperature of 35.8C recorded in West Sussex, beating previous record of 35.6C, while France records hottest day nationally

Update: Thursday 25

A delightful day on the Northumbrian coast, with gorgeous sunshine and temperatures in the low 20s. We were at Bamburgh Castle with a little fog rolling in to obscure the sea view and then at Warkworth Castle where the stiff breeze almost made it feel chilly. 

And here is how the BBC summarised the UK at the end of the day:

• The UK record for the hottest June day has been broken for the second day in a row, with 36.7C provisionally recorded in Merryfield, Somerset
• It's also been the hottest day of the year so far in Wales (35.6C), Scotland (31.2C) and Northern Ireland (30C)
• Meanwhile, a hosepipe ban is introduced for around 850,000 customers in Kent, and at least six NHS trusts in England have declared critical incidents
• A red weather warning for extreme heat has been extended into Friday for London and parts of south-east England - the first time it has been issued for three consecutive days

Update: Friday 26

Warm and sunny up to mid- afternoon in Northumberland, then a distinct cooling, a strengthening breeze, much rumbling of thunder and finally rain and lightning to accompany our tea. 

The Man Without the Golden Boot

The Guardian

 

James Bond sat at his desk, contemplating an easy day ahead. Perhaps a long lunch, then take the Bentley down to Sussex and, after a round of golf, some relaxation with Felicity. Or Fiona. Or...the red telephone buzzed and he was instantly alert.
"Right away, please". It was Miss Moneypenny, M's fearsome secretary. Bond snapped to his feet and made his way to the eighth floor.
"Morning, gorgeous" he began as he opened the door but she was tight-lipped "He's waiting, James". Bond shrugged and went straight in to the room beyond.

"Sit down 007". M, a half-smoked cheroot held absently in his left hand, gestured to the chair and Bond, without a word, knowing that something very big was up, obeyed. "Now then, 007, we have a crisis. Last night the entire kit of the England football team was stolen."

"Surely that's impossible" Bond blurted and M nodded "As heavily guarded as the crown jewels but nonetheless it happened. CIA are clamping down on the news but it will break in a day or so. We've got to get that kit back before then or God knows what may happen. Big match coming up. You know what might follow if we lose. Smithers at the Bank of England thinks there could be a run on the pound, or worse. Bond, you're on the next plane to Miami."
"On my way, sir"

-&-&-&-&-&-

The big black car rolled to a stop outside the airport terminal. Bond took a seat in the back and the car moved off at once, expertly driven through the heavy lunchtime traffic. Bond turned to the short man in the grey suit sitting beside him
"Good to see you again, Felix" he said. His old CIA partner Felix Leiter smiled "And you, you old bastard. Now I don't know what they told you, James, but this thing has got us beat. Who the hell would take such a risk for some soccerball gear? FBI have found the truck and we're going there right now"

-&-&-&-&-&-

The U-Haul truck was by the side of the road in a deserted industrial park, back doors open revealing the emptiness within. Forensic teams were working in and around it. Bond and Leiter looked it over. 
"Anything?" Leiter asked the head of the unit. "Nothing sir, they just hijacked the truck, drove it here, used a jemmy on the doors and took everything. We're baffled"
Bond strolled around to the cab. His eyes narrowed and he reached in under the driver's seat.
"Felix, look at this"
"What is it James?"
"A book of matches. Marked 'Magumbo Club'. Know it?"
"I sure do, James. Hangout for every hoodlum and two-bit grifter in downtown Miami. Owner is a Mr Flobeld"
"Let's get over there. Pronto"

-&-&-&-&-&-

"So Mr Bond, we meet again". The man in the swivel chair was facing away from Bond as he and Leiter were pushed into the dark room at the back of the Magumbo Club, half a dozen guns held on them by the impassive, kilted and tartan-clad henchmen. It had been easy to penetrate the club and, while Leiter distracted the barmen with a simple conjuring trick, Bond had slipped into the corridor behind in search of clues, but it had been a trap.The henchmen were waiting for them.

"Again? We've met before?" Bond said, mind racing as he tried to think where he recognised the voice of the sinister club owner.
"We have, Mr Bond. I was going by the alias of Delflob then".  Bond, his eyes narrowed, narrowed them further "Lledbof. Angus McCameron Partick Thistle Lledbof. The man who wanted to flood England with fake porridge. The man who tried to steal the stone of Scone by replacing it with a rock of Crumpet.  I should have guessed. And these Scottish hoods - there was only one team that Scotland really worried about and stealing the England kit was the obvious way to unsettle them. You knew that, if they had to play in new boots, they would all get blisters."
"Precisely, Mr Bond. And I have also bet a considerable amount of money on England losing. Not only will I be well in with the SNP when they finally take power, but I shall be able to afford that little BnB just outside Arbroath that I have always wanted. But I'm afraid neither you nor Mr Leiter will be able to stay there. Ha ha. Ha ha ha"

Editor's note. The manuscript ends here. Did Bond escape? Did he manage to have a restful few days at the little BnB just outside Arbroath anyway? Did England win anything? Alas, we shall never know.

World Cup '26 - Our Exclusive, All You Need to Know, Preview

 World Cup fever is here again and the question that everyone is asking is, will our viewing experience be altered in any way by being hosted in the USA?*  You need not wait until the tournament begins because we have the answers right here, as we bring you the time-honoured tradition of the Ramblings Preview.

There will be more use of VAR ("Video assisted rubbish"), lengthy drinks-breaks  and some rules have been tweaked, notably the one that says the winning team receive a trophy. In future, the winning team will be required to present  the trophy to President Trump. As this is unlikely to be England, we won't worry about it.

I have a feeling that the TV coverage will be something like this ...

Wed June 17. England vs Croatia. Dallas

"...and you join us here high above the Irving C Feistershmeckel III stadium as the match begins. I'm Bob Bland and with me is Hiram Highslacker. Hiram, there's two teams out there but only one can win, right?
- Bob, that is so true. It's all about the goals. But it might be a draw if, say, they both score the same number of goals.
- Is that so? Sounds complicated. But as the umpire blows to start the match and one of the guys down there touches the ball, let's take a commercial break..."

.....

"...And welcome back to this soccerball ball game here in Dallas where it is a cool 90 in the shade, or at least it is for us here in the air-conditioned commentary room, I hate to think what it's like for the players down there on the field.
- Sure gonna be warm, Bob and you know, those England players, they usually play in the rain and the fog, this must be pretty damn strange for them. 
- Sure is, Hiram, and can you update us about the scores?
- Glad to, Bob, there's been a goal, maybe two, but before I give you the details, here's a reminder about Alvaro's Funeral and Pizza Parlour in downtown Dallas - the place to go when you need to bury someone but just gotta get something to eat first. Do it all at Alvaros.
- Thanks Hiram, and down there on the grass, seems like the umpire is holding up a red card and waving it around, what the heck is that all about?
- Probably a helpful message from one of the sponsors, Bob, I know that Tom's Taxis here in Dallas have all-red cabs and nobody has cleaner ashtrays than Tom's.
-That's good to know, Hiram. And stay tuned to this channel, folks, so you don't miss a thing but it's time for a commercial break....

Tues 23 June. England vs Ghana. Boston

"...Bob Bland with you once again coming live from the CleanerCoal arena here in Boston, sponsored by Cleanercoal, the carbon sulphur mix that is so good for your throat, and with me is the stats and play expert, Hiram Highslacker. How's it going down on the gridiron, Hiram?
- Bob, it's all happening down there. England have kicked the ball. Ghana have kicked it back. Then several players kicked it and it went up in the air and of them actually hit it with his head. Can you believe that? Both of the quarterbacks have been in action, picking up the ball and distributing out to the linemen. Right now the play is halted because there is a VAR review about a comment one of the England team made to an assistant linejudge. I gather they have put out a call for a specialist in some strange language called Geordie. While we're waiting, I'll give you a full rundown on all the scores and plays, but first a word from Fatbuster Burgers, our special sponsors here this evening...

Sat 27 June. England vs Panama. New York

"...and as you rejoin us after that short break, it seems that Panama have scored again but we have to wait for the VAR review as to whether the celebrations went on too long, so while we are waiting, let's have a commercial break ..."

-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&

* Yes, there are some trivial matches in Mexico and Canada but I've done the "slumped by the cantina" gag too many times and I can't think of anything worth saying about Canada.

The Camblanes Affair

BBC News Feb 6,2026

 My friend Hercule Poirot and I had been taking a relaxing motoring holiday in south-west France. The warmth of the air and the beautiful countryside did much to restore him after a number of difficult cases and his moustaches were in excellent fettle. Little did we suspect, as we proceeded down a long, tree-lined avenue into Camblanes et Meynac, what awaited us. 

Poirot was enjoying himself observing the locals as we drove slowly through the town towards the Hotel de Bristol. "See, Hastings, that man with the baguettes. And there in the square, the old gentlemen playing at boules, while across by the church I observe the ladies going to mass. Ah, all is as it should be...but sacre bleu this is very strange. Look there, Hastings"

I looked across the street as he directed but saw only a few townsfolk going about their business. I said as much. Poirot shook his head "Oh, my friend, you do not look, you only glance. But I have seen....well, let us await developments. It may be nothing at all". 

We arranged comfortable rooms at the hotel, enjoyed an excellent dinner and took a stroll in the late evening, walking around the old square as did others similarly inclined. Poirot raised his hat politely to those we passed but suddenly he gripped my arm. 

"There, Hastings, there. You see them?"
"Really, Poirot, I have no idea ...good lord. Those two!"
"Exactement, mon ami. Two men with pigtails, wearing the silken robes of the Manchu dynasty and holding chopsticks. They seek to blend in but they cannot evade the eyes of Hercule Poirot. Hastings, we have sinister Orientals in our midst!"
"But what on earth put you on to them?"
"As we came into town, Hastings. I mentioned it to you but of course you saw nothing. You did not see the huge radar dish on the roof of the Villa Marguerite. You failed to observe the cameras all along the Rue Faubourg, each marked CSA, the initials of the China Spying Agency. Nor did you see the barbed wire and watchtowers that protect the mysterious Chateau Mysterieux, nor that intercontintal ballistic missile cunningly concealed amidst the chimney pots of the Mairie. They did not fool me. I have made certain arrangements".

Even as we walked back to our hotel, there was a blare of sirens and several black Citroens full of gendarmes converged on the square. Within moments our quarry were apprehended. One of the policemen approached us respectfully.

"Inspector Maigret sends his compliments, messieurs, and will be round to join you for a cognac as soon as our birds are safely locked up and he has informed the press of his coup against these spies"
"Poirot, surely you will not let him take all the credit for this?" I gasped. My friend flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate cuff.
"We are en vacances, mon ami. Let some other fictional detective have some publicity, hein?" And he sat in a deep armchair, stroked his moustaches and smiled benevolently.

Winning in the Snow

The Olympic Winter Games begin this week in Cortina, Italy. There is much excitement about the prospects for the British contestants. Let us not get too carried away. In 1988 and 1992 Britain won no medals. We did win two in 1994 but did not surpass this until 2014 and also 2018 when five were clocked. But 2022 saw a return to form with just two again.

Credit: Lebedev Evgeniy 

It's just not fair.  We are used to a certain sort of weather which in turn produces a certain sort of ground covering (see above), and it is not the pristine, fluffy deep snow that the skiers seek, nor are we blessed with lots of lakes that freeze up nicely for the skaters. It is time that there was a sports festival based on conditions in which our gallant athletes can truly compete:

• Slushboarding - contestants race over a pot-holed, slush covered road, trying to avoid keep left signs, speed bumps, badly parked cars and wobbling pedestrians. 
• Skating on thin ice - open to politicians of all parties as they make promises they cannot keep, affirm adherence to codes of conduct and swear loyalty to their leaders.
• The Overpass Dash - sprinters must race up and over ice-covered bridges to make a train connection
• Snowball fights - for individuals or teams. Spectators observe at their peril. No putting lumps of ice in the balls.
• Building a snowman, with both speed and artistic quality events. Scarfs may embody national colours. Competitors must supply lumps of coal and carrots.
• Stamping on puddles - Points are awarded for the height of splashes. 
• Snow on the line - A city tube network is crippled due to bad weather. Contestants must find the path between two stations that maximises the announcements about extensive delays, has the least useful replacement services and the most time spent shivering on a platform waiting for trains that are terminated at the preceding stop.

Readers! Suggest new events for the Realistic Winter Games. 

The best suggestions will be forwarded to the organisers and any adopted will win a fabulous, no-expenses paid holiday to the first AirBnB we can find that will give us a free room in exchange for a plug in these hallowed columns. Send in your ideas to the usual address. Terms and conditions apply and, in accordance with the spirit of the Olympics, will be supplied in exchange for a massive backhander in a brown envelope.