Old But Still Useful

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I was just checking on the temperature in the dining room, where I normally camp out during the evenings in autumn and winter - I spend spring and summer evenings in the conservatory/veranda/wintergarten thing - and the thermometer that resides in here shows a comfortable sixty-two Fahrenheit. It doesn't do Celsius as is it's a British thermometer that's ninety-four years old, made by Southall Brothers & Barclay, Ltd., of Birmingham. It came from Bournville School of Art in Birmingham, of which I am an alumnus, having started there fifty years ago later this year. The thermometer ended up in my possession after the traditional end of year shenanigans on the last day: don't ask.

The thing has stayed with me ever since, however, and I've managed to maintain the original keepers' tradition of noting exceptional seasonal temperatures on the back, as pictured; starting in 1929, when my dad was but six months old; where the pencilled entry reads: '48°[F] 29th Jan 1929'. The last entry before the instrument came into my - ahem - ownership, was in 1969, when on January the second the temperature reached 58 °F. Thereafter, the readings were all ours. The summer high in the seventies was recorded in 1975 as 93°F, but as this was in the tiny red-brick backyard of Winson Street, I think that might be a little on the high side: it was always an oven in summer out there, with no shade.

More realistically, the last four recordings show a fairly consistent trend in very hot summer days. July 2006, 93°F - then we switch to Celsius, using a couple of shade thermometers to average - July 2016, 34°C; July 2021, 32°C; July 2022, 35°C: the latter beating the previously, skewed high by two clear degrees Fahrenheit, and that here in the mountains of Snowdonia, and close to the sea; rather than in a land-locked inner city. Kinda makes you think. Also, thirty-five degrees of dry heat with no breeze just feels borderline dangerous: last year's peak felt very alien and very uncomfortable.

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