That’s Galway today, in somewhat unseasonal warmth and sunshine. I suppose it’s not really unseasonal (it is June!) but we’re always taken a little by surprise by sunny weather here in Ireland. While most of us appreciate and enjoy the weather, I’m always curious about how we talk about it here. We have no problem saying the weather’s beautiful, or gorgeous, or lovely, but when we start talking specifically about the temperature, we tend to fall back on cooking metaphors.

It’s absolutely boiling!

It’s roasting!

I’m roasted so I am!

They’re not exactly the most pleasant-sounding phrases, conjuring up images of being cooked alive (though they can be quite literal when you see some Irish people on holiday).

Perhaps we don’t quite trust the heat* because we’re not used to it. No surprise there, when we get about 225 days of rain per year.

But I think everywhere in the world people have this ambiguous relationship with heat. Yes it can be nice, but too much can be dangerous.

Someone we fancy can be hot, but so are stolen goods.

If things are starting to get interesting they’re hotting up, but if we get in trouble we’re in hot water.

You wouldn’t want to tangle with someone who’s hot-headed, but if they’re hot-blooded, well then maybe they’re just passionate, fiery souls.

Maybe it’s best not to think about it too much and enjoy the sun. Time for a nice cool ice-cream I think!

*on the west coast of Ireland, 20-25 C might be considered hot.