... I love it, and can do without the ridiculous warnings of a 'dangerous heatwave'.
Although I know there are 'vulnerable' people out there, nothing more than common-sense is needed for anyone capable of getting out and about by themselves.
I'll leave mothers to care for their squalling kids as best they can; keeping your, and their, cool is really not rocket science - it's done, and done very well I might point out, by people of all ethnicities, backgrounds and income-levels in countries as diverse as Australia, Argentina and Arabia. So don't tell me that 'it's the heat!; when your obnoxious brat screams or spews - especially when there are half a dozen other kids in the same space, none of whom are screaming or spewing like yours. The difference is that those kid's mothers have functional brain cells which they haven't destroyed for the sake of a short-lived high ...
It's not 'the heat', it's your own damned laziness and/or lack of common sense.
It appears that 'the elderly' are especially at risk. I'm elderly myself, and I am probably at less risk than most other people my age in the UK - and many far younger people - because I am not daft.
I was on the bus yesterday and a woman about my age looked really quite ill. She was fanning herself frantically in an effort to keep cool, and was mildly relieved when some good-hearted soul offered her an ice-cold bottle of water - still sealed - from her bag. She held it against her face and neck. The good-hearted soul urged her to drink it, but the hot woman refused saying she wasn't thirsty. The good-hearted soul told her, quite correctly, that didn't matter that she wasn't thirsty, she should stop frantically fanning herself, relax her body and sip the ice-cold water slowly.
Misery-guts me jumped in at this point, and said that it would also help if the hot woman removed her jacket and headscarf which were clearly heavy and tight, so that the slightly-cooler air flowing through the windows and door - which the helpful driver had opened by this point - could be of some assistance.
The hot woman had reached her stop, and got off - fortunately, we saw, into a shady area, with someone waiting to meet her - and the bus continued on its way. The good-hearted soul and I chatted. I pointed out that the hot lady had probably had on a bra and knickers, maybe a vest and a pantie-girdle 'for support'. She certainly had on a blouse tucked into a medium-weight skirt, a pair of heavy-ish tights, sturdy shoes, a cardi, a jacket and a headscarf. It was 27deg C outside; hotter in the bus with no a/c.
'All that underwear?' asked my new Pakistani friend in amazement. She was well-covered with clothing, certainly - but it was all loose and light. Certainly no tights, cardis, or thermal undies!
Folks, if you see some old lady wearing a white acrylic cardi and American Tan tights sweltering in the heat, don't just think 'poor soul'. Be as rude as you like and TELL them to take off than hideous cardi, remove those dead fish tights, roll down the pointless girdle, wad up the thermal vest, rip off the fugly headscarf and drink some cold water even if they don't think they are thirsty - and STAY ALIVE! It's probably easier for me to be rude in this way, as I'm an old woman myself.
If worse comes to worse and she's your granny, and you just can't bring yourself to be rude like that, maybe you could tell her instead that she won't 'feel the benefit' of her thermal undies when the heatwave ends - as it will, all too soon.
Tahe care and keep cool!
Monday, 1 July 2013
... it's difficult to really know what to write.
Here's one of the fabrics I mentioned in my last post - one of the fabrics I bought just because I like to look at it and to feel its texture.
|silver-grey pure silk- a photo cannot do it justice|
It's a silver-grey pure silk - almost, but not quite, of taffeta crispness - with charcoal-grey silk embroidery. I'm very, very tempted to buy more to make a Victorian dress. Not that I have anywhere I could wear such a thing, but I would make it my business to find somewhere, once I had my lovely outfit!
Now that was easy to write.
Being English, I find it immensely difficult to blow my own trumpet. Self-promotion seems, somehow, very wrong. I know I'm supposed to be proud of what I do well - I am - and not afraid to say so - that's the hard bit. It's boasting.
I know that making lovely things is my job, but marketing them is an important part of my job, too. After all, if I want to carry on making things I love, I need to sell some of the things I've made. I've read the books and visited the websites; I know what I should be doing - according to the marketing gurus, anyway - but I just can't. More, I won't. I don't see why I should do anything which really creeps me out. I loathe and despise the 'hard sell'. I very deliberately turn my back on pushy salespeople and walk away from them while they're still talking. If they persist after that, I can get very unpleasant indeed, should I need to.
SO, maybe that explains to you why I've been finding it a bit awkward and uncomfortable even to blog about what I've been making.
It strikes me that it would be all too easy to write an endless advert - and what's the point of that, other than to annoy people?
What I'd like to do is natter on about some of the things I've made, offer a few simple tutorials and know that a few people read my blog because they find it vaguely interesting. What do you think?
Posted by Eena at 09:56