Scattered thoughts

A friend tightly hugs her knees to her chest as she tells me she’s not felt this anxious about environmental issues and the state of things for a couple of decades

It rains and people share photos of it with their friends and family. Look at this they say. Mad scenes.

My partner tells me that when he was in the office and it briefly rained, or really heavily drizzled, people went to the window to look at it in wonder – just as they would do for snow

At the same time – and there are so few times it rains of course it’s likely to be the same time – I stand outside feeling each drop of rain as it touches my skin. It feels so refreshing and also as though it’s making my skin burn. I hadn’t felt so hot, it’s been cooler the past few days – by which I mean in the late twenties – that I thought my body wasn’t so hot now. The contrast between the heat of my body and the cool of the rain tells me that’s not the case

I walk alongside the playing field on the way to the gym – a place I visit most days, sometimes twice a day – and I see the dry earth now has a crack in it. I try but can’t remember if it’s always been there, or if it just recently happened. How could I not have noticed?

We’ve not really talked a lot about his reasons why, but I have a friend who doesn’t believe in climate change. I think he says it’s because he’s not convinced by the science. I think it’s because he likes to be a contrarian, he feels he can look dispassionately at the science or other evidence and honestly who wouldn’t rather it was all made up and everything was fine? In an earlier heatwave – over a May Bank Holiday I think – he comes over to mine for lunch. When asked how I am in the standard just arriving kind of way, I languidly say I’m very hot. He quickly replies that it is hot but it’s totally normal for this time of year and this kind of thing happens all the time. In a later heatwave we’re exchanging stories about things we’re currently really obsessed by – I talk about the World Cup. He tells me about a theory he’s discovered that he’s very excited by. It’s by someone he connected with during the pandemic – they both agreed that it was basically not anything to be worried about and there was no need to take the kinds of actions that were being taken. Essentially the theory is that every c.5,000 years the Earth’s poles flip – that there’s a bit of a wobble in the rotation of Earth and eventually this wobble builds up and everything floods. And it’s getting ready to flip soon by this reckoning. This theory apparently explains why there are more earthquakes and volcanoes happening – it’s a sign of more wobbling. That isn’t the technical term but I can’t find it – when I tried searching for the theory after my friend and I met and I could remember the actual word I still struggled to find anything online. This theory also explains some aspects of climate change too. I wondered if the attraction of the theory for my friend was that it offers a way to continue to disbelieve the science of climate change while still acknowledging that things are changing – this isn’t normal. I don’t know how I could ask him that, what good it would do

Struggling one day to work, irritated and frustrated with myself at not being able to concentrate or get things done. The next day it’s down from the peak of the heat and all of a sudden work feels much easier. All of a sudden? Even as I try to recognise the need to adjust work or play, I can still bump up against my expectations of how it should be

I look online for news about when it’s likely to rain next. For some reason the algorithm shows me a story from February this year. I read it, astonished and half-remembering the news and reality of ‘biblical floods’ with some places experiencing rain every day for forty days. The jokes we made about at least we’re not going to be needing hosepipe bans this year

Shifting in real time

I was astonished to read that this summer in the UK has been the hottest on record, not because I doubt the data but because my own memory of it feels so out of kilter. I’ve lived through it and it felt toasty at times but others have felt hotter. Perhaps the summers of 2020 and 2021 felt hotter. The lockdowns and pandemic situation might have made those feel hotter – everything felt more claustrophobic and turned up a level then. Even more so during 2020, when neighbours were carrying out an incredibly loud, judderingly bone-shaking extension. The noise and vibrations felt so intense, they created a feedback loop between the discomfort and the heat.

A big part of why it felt different to me is also probably because I’ve been lucky enough to move since then. During those pandemic times I was living in an Edwardian, first floor, purpose-built maisonette – a building designed for quite another climate. Now I live in a house that, whilst not very easy to keep cool, is nonetheless much easier to do so. Particularly at night, which meant I’ve been able to get some respite from the heat rather than feeling like my eyeballs were going to burst. I’m also in an area that’s more surrounded by trees, so that’s potentially giving more of a cooling feel too. I can come up with these different ideas to rationalise my thinking, even as I wonder if it’s just me trying to explain being in a more privileged situation.

Still though. The recency bias of a few autumnal feeling days and lots of rain means that those glorious sunny days feel a long time ago. Even scrolling back through photos, I see lots of sunny days but also plenty of grey days with occasional drizzle in the mix too. Knowing that I’m looking back at a summer which is record breaking and struggling to assimilate that information with what I remember and see. To see the shifting baselines happening, in real time, to myself, someone who works on climate issues and is aware of this in a way others might not be, feels disconcerting. If I can’t even persuade myself, how can I be surprised that others aren’t alarmed?

In a New York minute…

Looking at the weather report last night for today, it said there would be rain, lots of rain, a bit later on in the day. Not just a bit of rain but some good double blob levels of rain.

I woke up this morning to bright blue skies. Not a cloud to be seen in the sky. The soft, warm light gradually growing in its seemingly implacable intensity. As the early morning turned into kind of time that no longer feels like a secret pocket of time to be awake in, a virtuous bonus for the owls amongst us, but the kind of time most might be awake – the big blue sun filled sky carried on.

Checked the weather report again. Surely it wasn’t still predicting rain. Out of this most gently insistent blue sky – it seemed impossible.

Gradually some clouds appeared, then a few more came with tints of grey.

The seemingly impossible happened. Double blob rain out of a darkened sky. No blue to be seen. Replaced with thoughts of putting on a light and getting a jumper.

It is easy to forget everything is changing all of the time. Easy to feel moments are bigger and more substantial than they are. Good and sometimes astonishing to be reminded otherwise, fortunate that reminder comes today in the form of some much needed rain…