In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire,
to tear their clothes off and perspire.
It's one of those rules that the biggest fools obey,
Because the sun is much too sultry and one must avoid
its ultry-violet ray --
The natives grieve when the white men leave their huts,
Because they're obviously, absolutely nuts --
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
The Japanese don't care to, the Chinese wouldn't dare to,
Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one,
But Englishmen detest a siesta,
In the Philippines there are lovely screens,
to protect you from the glare,
In the Malay states there are hats like plates,
which the Britishers won't wear,
At twelve noon the natives swoon, and
no further work is done -
But Mad Dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
And here is Penny, at twenty minutes past noon today. (40 degrees Celcius/ 104 Fahrenheit)
Has she gone mad? Probably not, but she's a glutton for fun with her Whirl Wheel.
I ordered her inside! (BTW, the plants are covered to try to stop them frizzling in the extended horrible heat.)
Now she's relaxing in front of the fan, and I'm hot and bothered in the next room because I'm too kind (or soft) to deprive her of the fan.
But this morning, early, we walked at Willsmere and she had a lovely swim with her toy. Two toys, actually.
It was cool in the shade of the trees. Thank God for old, established trees!