My Newest Favourite Thing: Air Conditioning

We are struggling through a heat wave in Canberra. I got heat exhaustion on New Year's Eve. The early hours of the morning saw me gibbering on the bathroom floor trying to get cool - and (for once) it was nothing to do with the drink (not the alcoholic ones, anyway - it probably had a lot to do with the fact I had spent eight hours outdoors with insufficient hydration).

Temperatures here are in the high 30s/ low 40s, which is too hot for me. The Bureau of Meteorolgy has added new colours to its interactive weather forecasting chart (deep purple and pink) to widen the temperature range, previously capped at 50 degrees. There is now the added complication of gusting winds and no clouds, leading to electrical storms and no rain. Bush and grass fires are raging: I have heard almost continuous fire engine sirens today; the fire fighters are working overtime; the sky is dark and the air smells of smoke. This is my first 'bush fire season' and I'm not enjoying it.

I try to exercise early in the morning (not my best time, let's be honest) and then focus on more sedentary pursuits for the rest of the day. Lots of folk are heading to the seaside - we did that but it's a two-and-a-half hour drive and the road is now closed due to fire risk. Also, heat makes people grumpy and irritable - the last thing I want to do is be around lots of these type of people at the beach. We went to the mountains to cool down at the weekend (it's about five degrees cooler up there) - there is a bushfire there today.

I know some people like this sort of heat - cousin Rachael asked me to take a breath of the lung-desiccating air on her behalf (I took several, Rach) - but I am not one of them. Neither is the cat. He is flopping about the place even more than usual. The local government is warning people to drink lots of water, limit activity and stay indoors. This is all well and good if you've got air-conditioning. We haven't.

Him Outdoors works in air-conditioning buildings and drives around in the air-conditioned car, but there's nothing he can do about the stifling machine rooms and lift pits where the electical gadgetry is housed. In the last few days I have spent time at art galleries, cinemas and libraries. I like these places anyway, but their air-conditioning is the main drawcard at the moment. The only problem is the transport there - either walking 20 minutes to the bus stop and praying I don't have to run for the bus - or biking there and arriving with dripping hair under the bike helmet.

I have even spent more time than is strictly necessary in shopping malls and supermarkets. I know I have previously mentioned how much I dislike these places. But right now, keeping cool is a priority and I will do it any way I can. If only I could take Chester with me...

Winds of Change

Today is Whitsun or Pentecost. From the Ancient Greek meaning fiftieth day, Pentecost is not the noise made by Ivor the Engine (as I used to imagine when a child), but is rather the fiftieth day after Easter.

According to the New Testament, it was the day when the Holy Spirit came upon the apostles ‘as of a rushing mighty wind’ with ‘cloven tongues as of fire’ and they all began speaking in tongues, going out and about preaching to crowds and gathering new followers to the church.

This all sounds highly dramatic and is the basis of many works of art depicting a strangely violent purification process. I particularly like this from Linda Schmidt who is a textile artist and quilter. I can imagine ribbons of flame make a great subject for patchwork.

One of my favourite parts of the story is that when the disciples all started babbling away in foreign languages, sceptics claimed it was because they were drunk or ‘full of new wine’. Our vicar pointed out that ‘alcohol rarely helps me speak English any better, let alone a foreign language!’ Peter is said to have leapt up indignantly and announced that they couldn’t possibly be drunk because it was ‘but the third hour of the day.’ Like that’s any excuse!

Alexander Sadoyan also warms to the theme with this remarkable portrayal in oil on canvas.

In legend, King Arthur always gathered his knights to the round table on Pentecost and had a big feast and declared a quest. In reality, medieval English folk had a ‘benefit feast’ to which everyone was invited and made a small contribution to the church which was used for repairs or distributed as alms to the poor. Special ales were brewed and Morris dances were performed. Any excuse for a festival. As with most traditions, it was partly parish and partly heathen but it sounds like a lot of fun and a time to celebrate community.

It is a day I have always associated with wind, in which case, what better place to celebrate it than Wellington? Or perhaps Christchurch where the famed nor’westers drive everyone mad, although they do get the sheets dry. I found a poem that I wrote two years ago about the wind in Wellington, which I feel fits perfectly here.

Morning regime

It’s windy in Wellington,
No surprises there.
No wonder the women all have short hair
I think as I walk past covens in cafes
And down to the sea.

Waves whisk foam like frothy cappuccinos
And the wind whips my breath
And the salt and seaweed away.
I lurch sailor drunk in erratic zig-zags
Sea-legs on shore.

The in and out pebbles
Clatter like castanets;
Driftwood dances tangos.
Is this what they mean by multicultural?
Kirikiritatangi.

I am blasted by sand and water
Rough edges smoothed out
Dead cells sloughed off
No need for further beauty or exercise regimes

I am ready to face the city.

Picture by Tiffany Chantel.