Let’s Settle the “Is it REALLY That Hot in England” Debate Once and for All

For about two weeks out of the year, summer arrives in the British Isles and all the pasty colonizers realize that the summer they’ve been waiting 50 weeks for is actually miserable, they don’t want it, they never did, and complain incessantly.

This is then followed by universal disdain in the US, particularly places like Texas, Florida, and anywhere else that’s not Alaska probably, because seriously?? It’s like, barely 80 degrees there, I used to walk to and from school in 130 degree heat, uphill both ways, blah blah blah.

I know, because I used to be one of those people– any excuse to flex American exceptionalism to my in-laws. But now that we’re in the second week of summer (they weren’t consecutive this year), I find it incumbent upon myself to admit my ignorance of yesteryear and set the record straight. Hear ye, hear ye, for I answer the age-old debate once and for all:

No, it’ s not nearly as hot as American summer, but it’s still worse.

Let me explain by citing the two things that enabled me to not die in a puddle of sweat, flesh, and bones during my recent tenure in Florida: AC and options.

Houses here do not have air conditioning (or aircon, as they call it). Nor are the houses really designed to keep cool, because after all, 50 weeks out of the year are wet and cold, and that’s uncomfortable in a different way. So yeah, it may only be 82 degrees outside, but it’s like, 81 degrees inside because all you can do is open every window in the vain hope of teasing out a cross breeze and teeter on the brink of divorce as you divide fan privileges.

And I haven’t even mentioned the dog, who, despite being the cutest goodest boi in the whole wide world, is on both his parents’ sh*t list because he WON’T STOP FREAKING OUT. I GET IT, HOBBES, WE’RE ALL HOT AND MISERABLE. BUT I CAN’T DO A GODD*MN THING ABOUT IT SO STOP BARKING AT ME.

Oh, also, the windows don’t have screens so our office walls and ceiling are littered with the death prints of dusty moths that let themselves in at night. So there’s that too.

Anyone with a modicum of empathy for their fellow man should be convinced by now that England summer is worse than American summer, but in case you’re not, consider this: I survived July in Florida because I never really had to be outside if I didn’t want to (and I didn’t). Aside from a furtive dart from building to car to building, I could stay inside in the AC with impunity.

Not so over here. I have to walk places. Outside. Public buses aren’t air conditioned. Drive your own car, you say? Well I CAN’T, but even if I could no one ever uses their car’s AC because petrol, or gas as it’s known in better parts of the world, is on average $8.69 A GALLON. You think people are running AC in their cars at $8.69 A GALLON?! I assure you, they are not.

I hate hot weather. I get physically unwell if summer comes too fast. Living in Florida was a trial every day. But given the choice, I would rather be in Florida over their hottest week of the year than in England during theirs.

The matter is settled.