One of the surprising things about the great heatwave of 1976 was how few schoolchildren collapsed and died of dehydration in playgrounds. To my knowledge, there were none, and I was there (I’m 56).
No reports surfaced of playing fields strewn with children panting their last breath. Back then, we didn’t even have sun hats or sunscreen. We miraculously survived by gulping a few tepid mouthfuls from the communal water fountain. The biggest danger was cold sore transmission.
That was before the Water Enlightenment. Today, we know better, don’t we? Water is revered and borne aloft in fancy receptacles like a religious talisman. Every kitchen has a drawer full of indestructible water bottles, mostly unused, mainly plastic. One of life’s great ironies is that millions of years after the water dries up and climate change has evaporated humanity from the face of the Earth, alien archaeologists will study our civilisation through the strata of plastic water bottles we left behind.
Shorts
Water is no longer liquid that comes from the tap. It’s a social signifier. We divide into “hydro tribes”. There are the dependable mainstream water consumers: Buxton, Volvic; the old money drinkers: Evian, Perrier; and the status-signalling wellness water gluggers: Voss, Fiji Water. How you carry your water also defines you. Are you an adult-baby with your outsized Stanley sippy-cup, or do you strut around the gym with your two-litre “chug jug”?
