Wandering Through The Land Of Nod.

In which heatwave memories merge and I share a favourite novel.

Ouch! I squealed as my mam bathed my blistered feet with warm water, while I sat in our blue bathroom and felt sorry for myself.  It had been another very hot dry day in a summer which turned the green grass of England yellow.  I had spent the day walking the city streets, trying to get my life sorted.  I had worn cork soled sandals with thin, stringy straps.  In fact, the straps were made of red string, which I’d plaited and threaded myself, that’s how cool and creative I was!

The baking hot pavements, the cork and the string all took their toll and my feet turned into two big blisters.

This wasn’t 2026, it was 1976, when we were all stunned by weeks of heat and drought.  Then, unlike this year, we were given lots of instructions about saving water.  We were encouraged to put a brick into the toilet cistern, to measure the depth of our bathwater, to share that water with a friend, then to syphon it off for watering the garden.  I don’t know if anyone had an automatic washing machine, but we made good use of the water out of the twin tub.  We weren’t even to think about using a hosepipe.  

Strangely, there was no warning about wearing sandals made from string!

In Devon, thirsty residents had to collect water from standpipes in the street.

That was an era of public service announcements, when amidst the television ads, we were told how not to be swept out to sea on a dinghy or how not to blind other drivers with full headlights at night (I’d like that one to come back!), so I suppose we were more amenable to doing as we were told. 

For me, it was a year for sitting and failing exams and blaming the weather! For leaving school and thinking I was grown up.  For glorious days with my friends.

Thankfully, in all of that I had a mam to tend my blisters!

We were not alone in the hot weather.  In fact, we were kept company by swarms of ladybirds, which turned from being cute little creatures into pests.

Would we have believed anyone who told us then that in fifty years’ time we would look back at that summer and think it was quite pleasant really?

One of my favourite novels is called “Instructions for a Heatwave” by Maggie O’Farrell.  The book is set in that summer of 1976 and it’s a great tale of family tension and intrigue, all made more intense by the lack of rain.  It’s brilliantly written. I clearly recognised the time it was set and felt at home in the book.  I was disappointed when I got to the end because I really cared about that family and wanted to stay with them.

I wonder what novels will come out of this year?

In the heatwave of 2026, I never have a bath, so I don’t need to set up a syphoning system, but I do save the washing up water for the sake of my poor wilting hydrangea.  My feet aren’t young and soft anymore.  They are dry and flaky.  I wear sensible sandals which cover my whole foot, so no blisters. 

I haven’t seen one ladybird and apparently there’s a shortage of wasps, although one did join us at a family picnic in mid-August.

Do you have memories of 1976?

What story would you like to write about it?

I’d love to hear!

Wander well,

Mandy.

Things I love:

• Maggie O’ Farrell books.
• Not wearing a coat.
• Hanging the washing out to dry in hot weather.

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