In a Word...Climate

Baby Polar Bear came home from school one day and asked his mother whether he was really a polar bear

On the third day Baby Polar Bear came home from school and asked his grandmother if he was really a polar bear. Photograph: Brian Battaile/AP

With all this talk of global warming I’m beginning to feel like the baby polar bear in that old joke.

Baby Polar Bear came home from school one day and asked his mother whether he was really a polar bear. She replied: “of course you are, my little bundle of joy! Now off you go and do your homework before the dinner.”

Next day Baby Polar Bear came home from school and asked his grandfather if he was really a polar bear. Granda Bear replied: “of course you are, you scamp! Now go and do your homework before the dinner.”

On the third day Baby Polar Bear came home from school and asked his grandmother if he was really a polar bear. Grandma Bear was just as sure as Granda Bear and Mammy Bear: “Of course you are, my darling! Now go and do your homework before we have dinner.”

READ MORE

By the fourth day Baby Polar Bear was getting frustrated. This time when he came home from school he asked his father if he was really a polar bear. Papa Bear was annoyed, having heard all responses over the previous three days to this very question.

He raised his voice and said: “Wait a minute. I heard you ask Mammy (Baby Polar Bear’s mother, that is), Grandma and Granda that very question and they all told you ‘yes, you’re a polar bear’. Now you’re coming to me. Why do you keep asking everyone if you’re really a polar bear?”

Baby Polar Bear muttered a reply, but Daddy Bear couldn’t hear him. He demanded, ‘speak up, I can’t hear you’, and Baby Polar Bear shouted out loud: “...because I’m always f**king freezing!”

That’s how I feel every time we’re told that the average temperature in Ireland is rising to record levels every year and, in particular, when I heard that last May was the hottest on record. Not where I was. Like Baby Polar, I was freezing all through May, and wet, wet, wet.

This prompts me to plead with St Swithin on his feast day (July 15th), please, please, please, easy on the miracle. For once, should it rain could you please suspend your ‘promise’ of more over the next 40 days? Or I’ll turn into a duck.

Climate, from Latin clima, Greek klima for ‘region, zone, an inclination.’

Patsy McGarry

Patsy McGarry

Patsy McGarry is a contributor to The Irish Times