On Sizzling Days (repost from 2013)

Cherry

By Jane Hyphen

Thu, 09 Jul 2026
  • 87 reads
8 comments
 

 

Who knows why the bald man
Lusteth over the lidless car
Only to flaunt, on sizzling days
His wrinkly, glistening dome
As solar rays propel his heart
So far from wife and kids and home
To a slicker world
Where swollen girls
May pause and stare
And (only in his mind)
To dream of a lusty affair
His money could be spent instead
On crushed black pepper for his naked head
At great expense and time and pain
Well, if it's good enough for Wayne.....

Who knows why the hot weather jogger
Poundeth the warping streets
As heat haze ripples above asphalt
And wiser creatures only stir
To drink and scratch and sparsely eat
How they trot in silver shoes
To the maniacal beat of Supernaut
On cooler days their lycra pants
Only languish in a sticky drawer
At thirty degrees the pain is greater
So loved by the stomping, perspiring self-hater

Who knows why the perverted gardener
Who beckoneth these clement days
And curses as he crouches now
As white sparks flash across his eyes
And bang and throb his salty brow
How he dreams of autumn winds
Inviting even chastened clouds
To temper the force of this staring sun
And men in black vans
Sit vaporised in traffic jams
Frowning at audacious tones
Of BBC voices with silly names
Andrew Peach, Fenella Fudge, Thomasz Schafernaker
As black dogs lie and pant
Abutted against the cool of kitchen floors
Their thoughts and urges
All reasoned by more simple laws
Than us humans who are so complexly flawed

 

(I don't know if this poem has aged badly or not. I only worked half a day today doing physical work in the heat but driving home with no air con I saw a man in hi viz strimming, postal workers sweating, farmers, joggers, builders. Life goes on whenever there's a heatwave but the news programmes always interview office workers on their way to air conditioned offices about how they're coping!)

Certificate U
Poem

Comments

Submitted by GlosKat on

Good point Jane.  My sister is a farmer and my step mother is a riding instructor.  People like that have two choices - cancel their work and lose money, or slog it out in the heat. 

I'd like to see something in the news about how outdoor workers cope in the heat when they have no choice.But we never do.  It's the usual pictures of cute kids eating ice cream and girls in bikinis in parks.  

I think your poem has aged very well, it certainly made me smile !  I thnk the days of the soft top car are over though.  See this recent article on the BBC website :

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cx212yy4er0o

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

How true, you might postpone a day like I did a few weeks ago but then you have to catch up and the heat is still hanging around. Thank you for saying it's aged well. The decline in soft tops is interesting, I checked out your link. People don't want to be seen anymore except through a screen and increasingly bald men want hair transplants. Baldness doesn't bother me in the slightest.

 

Submitted by insertponceyfre... on

I've actually seen a few news items about scaffolders, farmers etc in the heat, poor things - and poor you Jane too. I think whenever possible people should adjust working hours to what they do in eg mediterranean countries - early starts, long breaks etc. Your poem has weathered well though (see what I did there?)

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Ha ha, weathering this weather is a challenge for all of us. I'm glad I'm not in my previous new build house, it would be unbearable. I have been starting earlier and it's certainly better in the first few hours. I hope this isn't the new normal though, it's sort of frightening. Thank you for your comment insert.

By the way, I remember Bee really liked this poem and I was so happy that she found it amusing.

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

:0) Funny, and clever, too, how you have an old fashioned style with modern daftness, like it is John Dee looking into the future. I love the bit about black dogs and cool kitchen floors. Altogether brilliant poem!

There was helpful advice on radio 4's PM, from a chimney sweep, who had learned in the army what to do - bring a big bottle of water, wet a black tee shirt and make it wet again when the water evapourates (because it's black the water won't show); wear a wide brimmed hat with a bit of wet towel curled round inside the crown, and make that wet again whenever it evapourates

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

Sounds like good advice, especially the wet towel under the hat. I couldn't help but think of Dick van Dyke in a wet t shirt.

It's the full sun that bothers me the most, it's crispy dry, savage. The poor plants! Thank you, Di for your lovely comment, much appreciated.

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Ah you made me do LOLs multiple times. And I too am a perverted gardener, but I love the hot sunny days, as long as I'm allowed a siesta. I expect the professionals aren't allowed that luxury. Poor you!

2013 was a long time before my time on ABC began so it's the first time I've read this. Great poem and very funny. 

Turlough

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

I'm not sure how the word 'perverted' got in there but we're all a bit closer to our instincts when we're working outside. I'll confess to having a fifteen minute..siesta this evening in the garden.

It was a long time ago but it feels like yesterday and I remember it was inspired by all the men I saw that day driving convertible cars with bald heads glistening in the sun. Thanks for reading, Turlough.