Deaths from Sun-Stroke in Australia.

[Currie]

Here’s a story from the Bradford Observer (that’s Bradford, England), Thursday, May 24, 1855, that you may or may not find amusing.

DEATHS FROM SUN-STROKE IN AUSTRALIA.

The Melbourne Argus of the 1st March publishes a long list of deaths which had recently been occasioned by sun-stroke or excessive heat. In many of the cases death occurred instantaneously, or after a very short interval. The Sydney Herald has an article on the prevailing heat, from which we take the following:—

Never in the memory of that venerable personage, "the oldest inhabitant,” was Sydney so hot as during the first three days of the present week. Moultan in the dog-days was a joke to it and Moultan, they say, is next door to Tartarus. The thermometer stood at 112 degrees in the shade, and in the blaze of noon the heat was something terrific. A canopy of red-hot brass seemed to glow over the devoted city. The atmosphere was of that dull, dry, torrid cast, such as one may see or wonder at in some of Turner's pictures. The sun struck you sensibly, and its beams were as palpable as if Silver-Bow was veritably shooting his fire darts. Hardly a breath of air was there to stir the burning refulgence of the solar rays; and the hapless citizens, gasping, blowing, perspiring, parched, baked, and roasted, found no comfort, even in sherry cobblers. The sun fried your brains, and the flags scorched your feet as you walked. The glare blinded your eyes, and heated your barnacles. The water boiled in your basin, and the butter became oil in your plate. All that was solid began to liquefy, and all that should be liquid was dried up, as by a blast from the furnace. Fat men began to fear that their "too solid flesh would melt," and envied their leaner neighbours. Never was it so hot on this side of Avernus.

Yet, in the height of their distress, did not the citizens depart from their national habits—or belie the character of Englishmen. Like true-born Britons, they went about in broadcloth, black hats, and tight neck-cloths—maugre the thermometer at 112 degrees. As their fathers did before them, so did they, even as though Australia was Yorkshire, or George-street, Piccadilly. They braved the fury of the mid-day sun, as if our southern luminary was but the dull, yellow globe which sometimes decks their hyperborean skies. Umbrellas they disdained as effeminate, and gloried in their heat-conducting black cylinders. Thus they went bravely through the streets, mopping their unhappy faces, and courting sudden death. Even women were seen, in all that awful heat, calmly pursuing their occupation of shopping—pursuit of mysterious charm to womankind,—as if there was nothing unusual in the weather. Red-faced, full-blooded, chubby young creatures, nursed by the snows, and winds, and rains of merry England, were taking the hot air as if born and bred in the lava of Vesuvius. Middle-aged female salamanders, also, of obese habit, were sunning their charms, like so many turtles in a tropical noonday.

For once that national subject of conversation, the weather, possessed a real interest. It was, no doubt, hot—very hot—awfully hot—excruciatingly hot, and Brown, Jones, and Robinson were justified in saving so. Yet the wonder was, that in all that heat, men and women were found pursuing their ordinary occupations as in the mildest weather.

The consequences were to have been foreseen. Upwards of thirty people, even according to our very imperfect accounts, perished suddenly of the extreme heat. To those of intemperate habits the weather was particularly fatal. The symptoms in all the cases were similar—a sudden giddiness, attended with vomiting, a fall, and death. The sunstroke works rapidly and gives no time to the doctor. The reckless and obstinate scorners of the power of Phoebus have no time even to repent them of their folly. They may not cry, quo numine laeso!


And here’s a song from Noel Coward that almost seems to have been inspired by the above, and which you may or may not find amusing. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPnJM3zWfUo (how do you turn off this thing!)

All the best,
Alan

[Montrose Budie]

I just barely survived such a day or so in Sydney in the late 1970s.

On a flight back to Sydney from Tassie we were discussing the business meeting down there so didn't pay attention to the announcement regarding the current weather in Sydney.

It was therefore a major shock when we exited the air conditioned terminal at Kingsford Smith airport.

It had been 20°C when we left that morning, but was now over 40°C (104 °F), - I believe that this is called a "fast change" !

mb

[Russell]

Yes mb

But were you dressed in broadcloth, black hat and tight neckcloth
I don't think back then that it was only "Mad dogs and Englishmen" who went out in the mid-day sun. Pictures of Scots from North America as well as the Antipodes often show them in heavy cotton work shirts and moleskins. The only thing missing was the celluloid detachable collar.

Russell

[SarahND]

Actually, the top hat was probably a very good idea. From my years in India I can vouch for the fact that hatless is NOT the way to go... unless you particularly like the feeling of a prickly heat rash on your scalp every time the sun touches it for days and weeks after exposure to the heat. This is one of the main reasons for the traditional turbans wisely worn by most men over there. I can still feel it

All the best,
Sarah

[Alan SHARP]

Greetings.

My post WWII generation of beach lovers in our swimming briefs and bikinis, looked upon our Grand parents generation photos in amusement, and believed that, even at labouring work they wore waist coat and jacket, presumably to keep the heat OUT !
While in the Waikato we did not often get as hot as in Australia, our heat was not a dry heat, but usually a very humid heat, with all the rivers, lakes and swamps that were around. The really hot days always seemed to coincide with the peach bottling. I was never able to find a comfortable spot to peel the buckets of peaches, as even under the trees it was blistering, and of course inside was the added heat from the boiling preserving pans.

Alan SHARP.