It’s the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine.
This time last year, Ireland was on the brink of a snowstorm so bad that we ran out of bread and crashed a JCB into a Lidl. It had, of course, snowed in February before, but Storm Emma was an example of extreme weather that is rare enough in Ireland.
On Monday, temperatures in Roscommon — the windy, wet, West of Ireland — topped 17 degrees Celsius. This peak was also met at other weather stations around the country. Over in the United Kingdom, they’ve clocked the hottest February temperatures on record.
It fits the pattern of extreme climate change that the world has been battered with over the last few years.
But for Irish people, it’s a bit of a mind-fuck.
Did you know that there are countries where the sky is almost always blue? In Ireland, that’s always been more of a theoretical thing. Like, we know that it’s technically blue. The chances of it actually being blue whenever you look up are pretty slim. It’s usually more of a… white-grey. Like an oily rag.
Our relationship with sun has always been a bit more like visiting a relative in prison. Sure, it’s nice to see it, but you can’t really feel its warmth through the protective plexiglass.
Summer 2018 was the starkest departure so far from the typical idea of an Irish summer.
Last year, a nationwide hosepipe ban was ordered while the country ran short of water for about three months. Met Éireann issued regular drought warnings. We had actual wildfires to such an extent that we started discovering artefacts from World War 2.
It makes us feel good. It helps us relax. Ironically, the immediate consequence of the sunshine is that our anxiety-ridden nation temporarily calms down, breathes in the fresh air and takes in the beauty of Ireland in the amber sunlight.
But that’s ignoring the key question: is it sustainable?
No. No, of course it’s not, you moron. You imbecile. Who would even ask a question that stupid. “Is is sustainable?”
We’re all going to die on this rock, sizzling and shrivelling up like rashers left on the pan too long. It’s February in Ireland and it’s warm. We had a three-month heatwave last summer. A heatwave. In Ireland. Your children are going to die and the nice weather will be why.
Are we… are we on the okay side?
Right now in this very moment, as the sun shines on one of the warmest February days in Ireland’s history, an iceberg roughly twice the size of New York City could soon break off the Brunt ice shelf in Antarctica, according to NASA scientists who are monitoring an enormous crack that is spreading across the sprawling slab. In case it’s not obvious, that’s bad news.
Similarly, nine of the hottest years on record have been since 2005. The top five is comprised entirely of the last five years.
Global carbon emissions jumped to a record high in 2018, dashing hopes a plateau of recent years would be maintained.
The planet continues to take its revenge on us for years of mistreatment through reliance on fossil fuels, carbon emissions and rampant pollution.
Sea levels continue to rise at an exponential rate since the average annual rise doubled in 1993. This is especially bad news for Ireland, which is essentially one big coastline.
But none of this excludes the fact that, so far, climate change is working out pretty well for Ireland. You know. On a day-to-day basis.
Every extra degree, every extra minute of sunshine, every day we go without the rain that has facilitated some of our country’s most important industry is greeted with enthusiasm.
Kids diving headlong into reservoirs. Cans litter the banks of every canal or other sit-beside-able body of water. The classic order at the bar is swapped out for a Kopparberg Mixed Fruits, the huddling masses fill the beer gardens with cigarette smoke and Instagram is flush with photos of 99s (Flake optional).
All these things conjure up the soothing comfort of summer, which, in Ireland’s history, has been an all too brief respite from the misery, typically falling during the two-and-a-half-week period during the Junior and Leaving Cert. It finally seems like traditional Irish weather is shifting more than a little, and shifting favourably. In the short term.
There is bliss in short-term thinking. If there wasn’t then we wouldn’t be in this position right now. Each previous generation has made its decisions with little if any regard for the environmental consequences. Descended from such wanton eco-nihilism, it seems a very large demand for our generation to forego plastic straws in the hopes of undoing centuries of relying on oil.
I don’t like the word snowflake, but I can at the very least concede that millennials are more sensitive than previous generations. When you think about it, this might have a lot to do with the world very much threatening to end in our lifetimes, and our responsibility to fix the damage done by the previous 200 years of people.
Which is funny! Because another thing that millennials have in common with snowflakes is that their survival is very much dependent on the weather.
Still, let’s enjoy it while it lasts. Something tells me we don’t have all that much longer.
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