Last night we went into town for a meal. We’re still on the sunny isle of Fuerteventura and enjoying every minute. After a big steak at one of the local restaurants I overheard a local accent from the other side of the room. It’s fair to say that accents around my kneck of the woods are fairly ermm.. distinctive. When I was growing up we lived in Wednesbury and went to Dudley, Walsall and Wolverhampton regularly, so I did have a fairly strong “Yim Yam” accent (locals will know what I mean by that – it’s all to do with those words being used in conversation, such as “Yam a bit fot ay ya?”, which is “You’re a rather large person, aren’t you?”).
Anyhoo, as the night went on Billy did his usual trick of entertaining everyone in the restaurant. He was dancing along to the music, blowing raspberries and chatting along to himself like a 1-year-old does (Hey, can you lot remember when I told you he’d been born? Yes, thats a year already! Woaha!) Eventually the group with the familiar accents came over just as we were about to leave. We got chatting and they were a great bunch of people but I was perhaps a lot more sober than they were. I’ll admit that my drinking habits have changed radically since I learned Emily was pregnant. You can’t really combine getting drunk and havkng a hangover with waking up several times a night to tend to a baby.
We chatted about the resort, about home and strangely about the toilets too (don’t ask, it’s a whole other story). Then, perhaps due to a little too much alcohol, one guy said this to me..
“Mate, did you get out in the sun today?”
“No”, I replied. I was a bit puzzled because it’d been cloudy for most of the day so we’d driven into town instead.
“Oh we did, we got burned a bit. Bloody hot it was”
“Oh right”, I replied again. I was still confused because it had rained at one point. It wasn’t cold by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t exactly hot.
“Do you know how hot it was?”, he asked.
“No”, I replied.
“Go on, guess”, he said.
“I dunno, I think it was about 23?”, I responded.
“No, I’ll tell ya. 49 degrees it was.”, he said.
“Wa… Was it?”, I said.
“Yeah. 49 degrees. That’s hot that is”
Now, I’m fairly confident that this guy was talking in Celcius and not Fahrenheit, because in the UK we all use Celcius now and h wasn’t old enough to use the older system. 49 degrees Fahrenheit would be cold though – very cold. So 49 degrees C ? You’d be melting!