The Summer Tussle

Last year, summer started in May here. It was hellish and in fact, I think I may have been a bit scarred for life. I know that by the end of it, I was a leeetle beeet crazy. I was longing, desperate for a bit of rain and to feel a chill on my bones when I walked out of the door. It started at 40° in May and pretty much carried on that way till October, apart from our annual respite in August at Mum and Dad's in Spain. I used to love the hot weather - that first warm, damp intake of air as you get off the plane at the start of your holiday.

Well, let me tell you - that heat when you have to live in it can drive you insane. It's as bad as having rain all summer because you sure as hell can't go out and do anything. So, as I think I have previously mentioned, summer here is Not Fun. This summer is better, though. We got AIRCON. Praise be to Heaven, we have little white units delivering pure bliss in the flat that mean that I can hunker down all day, praying for Winter (Autumn's still a bit too warm for me these days) and the walls to stop burning my hands when I touch them.

To me, aircon units are a divine gift. To others, they are the Devil's work, sent to deliver pestilence and plague unto the population. Well, a sore throat and a bit of a sniffle actually, but you would think it was the former by the conversations that go on. And in fact, now I think about it, Italy isn't the only place where you'll hear this conversation. I'm remebering conversations when I lived in Bermuda fairly similar to the ones we have here. Or the ones I am forced to smile along, nodding my head to, if I don't want to get scoffed out of town. Aircon dries your throat, you see, amongst many many other horrors it delivers. A friend came round for one of the World Cup matches and we had to switch the aircon off for him as - no word of a lie - it was 'making him sweat'. He'd come out of the 30° evening air, and my lovely cool air was making him sweat. This in turn would give him a bad back. I am not kidding!!! My step-mum-in-law came out with a similar thing the other day while we still in the mountains - it was in the high 20°'s and I said, 'for Heaven's sake, take your shirt off', (she was in a t-shirt with a shirt over). She said no, don't think I will, 'because the sweat will dry on my neck and I'll get a chill'. The body doing it's natural cooling-mechanism-thing seems to be a terrible burden to Italians.

Of course, my dearest other half is Italian and not immune to the fear of the aircon. He is better than most - and indeed, mostly tolerates my need to have frost on the end of my nose in the car, for example. But the Summer Tussle gets down and dirty in bed of a night. It's the Tussle over who does what - with the airconditioner. My secret fantasty? It's to be in pj's in the middle of summer, tucked up in a quilt with the aircon on FULL blasting out freezing cold air all night. Of course, it's never going to happen: Economically, we'd be bankrupt after a week with the high energy prices here, and ecologically, I am fully aware (though don't care as much as maybe I ought) that there is a hefty price to pay for my frosty nose. Enrico could well sleep in the stifling heat, no probs. He could probably sleep through a nuclear war balanced on a high beam, to be honest, so the heavy stifling nights don't really bother him. Before Aircon, I would sleep on the cool(er) tiled floor, now though, we have the discussion: At what speed does it go on? What is the lowest temp I can get it on while he's negotiating the maximum? Do we go for automatic (of COURSE we don't, it would never get the place cool enough to reach the cut-off point due to the 3 foot thick bricks that are super-heated all day) or do we keep it just on Low Fan? Should I, ethically, economically and just to keep the old sod happy, switch it off once I start to feel a bit nippy? So many considerations. It's the same argument and it will probably be the same every night of every summer of our lives, because it seems that men don't feel the extremes of temperature like women do and because it isn't affecting them, it isn't happening. Enrico will actually tell me that I am feeling cool when of course I am not, at all, feeling cool, as if I am suffering from the heat just to spite him. I KNOW when I am feeling hot or when I am feeling cold, thanks, you telling me that I can't possibly still feel hot does not alter my body chemistry in the slightest.

Anyway, I've just hopped out of bed to write this while it was still fresh in my mind (from this night's Tussle: 26°, Low Fan, switched off once need for quilt kicks in, in case you're wondering). He should be asleep by now though, so I'll just be grabbing this remote control....