Keeping Cool

 Keeping Cool

    We, in the UK, have just lived through the three hottest June days ever, each day hotter than the day before. No doubt many people, like me, will have finally woken to the reality of 'Climate Change' and 'Global Warming'. Good!

    Of course we, in the UK, shall have to adapt step by step to meet these realities, learning from warmer countries. There is talk of fitting 'Air-Conditioning' in schools and old-people's homes, and that will doubtless be needed. But I hope we look also at passive means of keeping cool: external shutters, awnings, insulation, trees, work-schedules, siestas, and all the features that have for centuries made life tolerable in the tropics. In the longer term we could look at the design of houses and villages in countries where these temperatures have been familiar for centuries.  

    While admitting the needs of schools and old-peoples-homes, I am horrified at the thought of thousands of people rushing off to buy fans and portable cooling units without learning the protocols; for these things themselves all generate more heat. (And some CO2, still.)

    For the next few years I think I shall be able to survive in comfort without air-conditioning. When a hot day is forecast, I go round the house tilting the blinds and curtains to block out direct sunlight.  As soon as the outside air-temperature rises above the inside air-temperature (usually about 24ºC), I go round the house shutting (or nearly shutting) all doors and windows, and I keep them shut until, in the evening, the cooling outside air feels pleasant. I then throw open the windows, French windows and doors to cool the house during the night. (I would need to think of something else if the night-time temperature remained above 25º. Fortunately, that has not happened yet.) 

    I see around me that many people are new to air-conditioning technology and need educating about the etiquette. Mid-afternoon on the 24th June, I made my way from my dentist down to the bus terminus, choosing, for once, to walk through the air-conditioned shopping arcade rather than taking the 'fresh-air'  or 'canal-side' routes. I found that the automatic doors had been jacked open by the janitor staff. I expostulated to the first janitor I met. 
    "Which doors?", he asked.
    "Those out to the street!", I wooffed, for I still had a wad of gauze clenched between my teeth. "Why are they open?"

    "To let in the air", he replied, as though I was the dumb one. I gave up and walked on down the hall to the information desk, noticing that all the doors to the outside were open. Again an uncomprehending shrug. On the point of giving up, I turned back and tried a parting shot.
    "It is like leaving the fridge-door open! You pump all that heat out and it comes rushing back in!
    "I see what you mean", he conceded. (But weeks later the doors are still jacked open on hot days.)

    My grand-daughter told me that her school class room was set at 22ºC, which shocked me. I remember learning, some decades ago, that California, faced with a shortage of electricity in summer, pleaded that no thermostat be set lower that 78ºF (25.5ºC) if the house is occupied. (Or 85°F if the house is unoccupied.) I know that I can manage sedentary work perfectly well at 25ºC.