Life lessons. And crazy summer crises!

The other day up at the chess tournament I watched a small boy emerge from the playing area, and run and hide behind some parked cars to cry his little heart out where he thought nobody could see him. Except that a friend and I did see him and we concluded that he had just lost a game. But no, after having a bit of a weep he went back in and resumed playing. After a while he came out again with his opponent, an adult player. The little chap was crying again. We worked out that he might by now have drawn but, earwigging on the conversation, we decided that he was crying with frustration because he is considered to be quite a talented young fellow but he had not managed to win a single game so far in the tournament.

Life is full of hard lessons for a bright little chap to learn.

That you can be clever and still not win everything is what a hot summer week in a hot sports hall has hopefully taught that young man.

Elsewhere the summer is having odd consequences. Earlier in the summer there was a salad crisis. Prices for lettuce, especially iceberg, were going up. There was a shortage because lettuce does not grow well when the temperatures are too high. And so, just when everyone suddenly wanted salad it was not so easily available! Who’d have thought it?

And in Belgium, for the same reason, they are suffering from a potato shortage. Now, chips are the country’s national dish. This makes Belgium the butt of all sorts of jokes. But the fact remains that chips are a regular cheap snack in that country. The lack of rain makes the crop smaller and tougher, harder for potato-peeling machines to deal with.

It’s causing havoc for the “frites” sellers!

No, I am not joking. This is serious crisis stuff.

Bernard Lefèvre, the president of Unafri-Navefri, the stallowners association, said: “Prices have already increased and potatoes will be smaller but it isn’t clear yet. We are hopeful. It’s the first time Belgians are praying for more rain ... Frites are essential. It is vital. It is part of our culture. It’s more than a product — it’s a symbol of Belgium.”

It’s so serious that Belgium has appealed to the EU for emergency funds to help deal with the drought. Who would have thought it could come to this?

Meanwhile, tomato growers are really happy. Janet Street Porter wrote in the Independent about people posting pictures on tomatoes on social media. “Yes, tomato porn beats the real thing any day. Conventional miniature plum varieties are considered unadventurous and dreary, whereas anything black, dark red or purple is highly fashionable, the veg equivalent of the designer trainer or Gucci bag.”

She continued: “Year after year, I have failed at tomato growing – crops have been struck down by blight, greenfly, rotting leaves, or ended up the size of marbles. I’ve begged them to thrive, and prayed to the tomato goddess in the sky, to no avail. This year – bingo! I couldn’t resist joining the gloaters and tweeting a snap of my perfect yellow sungold lovelies – only to be trumped mostly by people growing massive red beefsteak monsters. I retaliated with another shot of my noire de crimee, ruby red tomatoes with deep burgundy flesh. I admit tomato porn has become obsessive, but nothing gives me more pleasure this weird summer than eating a juicy specimen on toast! Yes, I admit I am a tomato snob.”

Summer makes strange things happen! But then you can boast about anything at all on social media. 

Then there is Barbara Ellen writing about people being silly and getting too much sun:

“A&E departments reported record admissions during the heatwave, sometimes for minor-sounding complaints. I like to think that this supports my admittedly unscientific thesis that certain British people may have finally accepted that they can’t hack hot weather. These are probably the same smug characters who sneer at people like myself for our constant, wholly justified whingeing about hot weather.
If I were an overpaid Ibiza DJ, I’d do a “scratch-mix” (or whatever the Young Folk call them now) of their righteous opining: “Get over it/ Embrace life/ Stop being such a miserable goth/ Look at fabulous-me, I’m sat cross-legged, meditating in the park, wearing the same tie-dyed pantaloons I wore on my trip to Goa/ Oh yum, this watermelon and frog spawn ice lolly is so thirst-quenching, and only £9.99 from a pop-up shop in Hoxton/ Hey everybody, look at my little hand-held fan, which I’m holding rigidly right in front of my face, because otherwise I’d faint going all of three stops on the bus…”
Then along comes a genuine “scorcher!” and they all end up in A&E like the pathetic cry-babies they really are. OK, it might not be the same people. Still, surely now it’s obvious, even to sun-worshippers, that hot weather in the UK is a human rights calamity – sunburn, dehydration, sticky cream, surreal, sweaty nights, with whirring fans that bring on fitful dreams that you’re trapped inside Gene Simmons’s codpiece at a Kiss revival concert. And you’re not on holiday, you’re working, so where are the crowdfunders and GoFundMes to get this country adequate air-conditioning? However, while people like myself have always complained about the sun, and probably always will, we don’t generally end up in A&E. Who are the sun-wimps now?”

Life can be strange!