What Is So Rare

It seemed only yesterday that the whole nation was shivering in the grip of one of the worst winters in history, but last week in London it was hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. Just to prove it, three girls tried the trick, using a city rooftop instead of the pavement. They did the job in 15 minutes while news photographers stood by to record the history-making scene. "Silliest picture of the year," snorted the Evening Standard, sweltering and irritable in the heat (92DEG) of the hottest June day on record. "Everyone knows it was hot today, but that's no excuse for wasting an egg."

Pollyanna-wise, the Daily Telegraph was determined to be cheerful and bright about the whole thing. "It would be a poor heart which did not rejoice at this sudden glory of the uncertain English summer," it wrote. "Now that at last this cheerfulness has broken through, let none complain that this sparkling warmth is not to be borne." Grumpily the hot and footsore Standard muttered: "Do not drink iced drinks. They often bring on stomach cramps. Look after the feet. Eau de Cologne and methylated spirits applied at night are helpful!"

Wriggles in the Night. Other editors were trying their best to bring comfort. In an Indian restaurant in Soho, the London correspondent of the Manchester Guardian decided that the time was ripe for -- testing the age-old theory that curry is cooling. "It brought tears to the eyes," he reported after consuming a heaping plateful of the hottest variety, "and certainly the external world seemed cool for a time compared to the inferno raging within."

But such conscientious research was small solace to most of London's perspiring millions. "I can't eat in the day and I wriggle about with one sheet all night," moaned a a little suburban housewife. "Cahn't work. Cahn't sleep. And your margarine melts before you get it 'ome from the grocer's," groaned a Cockney lady in the Underground.

To make things worse, three trainloads of milk went sour on the way to the capital. And just at the height of the heat wave, London's water supply staggered and broke down under a record load of 428 million gallons a day--30 million gallons more than last year's consumption for the same period. Taps gurgled and ran dry in thousands of London homes, and once again Londoners were queuing up on the streets, this time with jugs and cans, to wait for a cooling ration from city water carts and hydrants. In many a London kitchen, where the milk is kept cool and sweet by standing in a bucket of wafer, housewives philosophically turned their curdling ration to pot cheese.

Dog Hysteria. At the home of Mr. & Mrs. H. C. F. Harwood, near Regent's Park, one of London's few refrigerators (about one British family in 35 owns one) chose this crucial moment to spring a leak. To save their Pekingese bitch, Anna, from asphyxiation, the Harwoods hung her out of the window in a string bag. Whether Anna survived the treatment without hysterics was not reported, but as the weekend approached with cooling thunderstorms, the ever-helpful Evening Standard had a final word of advice for other dog lovers. "Dog hysteria," pronounced the Standard, "has its root in digestive troubles, but dogs are more prone to attack in hot weather. Place your dog in a cool, dark place until he is more normal, then give him a bromide."

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