A week of temperatures over 80 old-fashioned degrees. It’s tempting to stay at home and read. Sun never reaches the terrace by the kitchen door; I hose down the ferns in their pots and sit back in the transat. Do you know the expression? One of those chaises longues on the decks of transatlantique liners (French, First Class).
When I do sally out I plan my course to avoid walking in the sun. There is a sort of science to it, and certainly ground rules. Be back home by eleven, and ten if possible. Avoid streets running north/south for two hours either side of noon, and east/west streets as the sun begins to settle in the west, often its most burning time.
Trees can be your best ally, but don’t rely on them. There will be gaps, and little trees like flowering cherries are not ideal. Planes, limes or horse chestnuts are best. Tall buildings close to the street give the most certain shade (but very tall ones can cause gusty winds). Houses with front gardens stand too far back to be much help, unless their gardens have rather tall trees.
When you turn a corner sum up which side of the new street offers more shade, even if it’s not on your direct route – and be prepared to cross the road as often as necessary to avoid unshaded stretches of pavement.
Key to the whole thing is registering where the sun is in the sky, and where it’s going. (To the right, if you haven’t noticed). Plan your route to have it on your back, rather than in your eyes, as much as possible; too bad if your destination is in the west, or in the early morning, the east.