The Great Old Fashioned Aussie Summer

Josh, who is prone to being a bit of a drama king, said in an almost panicked tone yesterday, "Is this all to do with global warming?"  My reply was "No it's called an Australian Summer, always has been and always will be this way".  My sister was married 40 years ago yesterday, and I remember the day was sweltering hot.  I had to wear a hot pink crepe abomination and as we slid down the aisle all I could think about was our pool at home and how soon I could get out of this ridiculous clobber and into the cool water.
We spent most of yesterday in our own pool, bath like though it was, and it put me in mind of my childhood and all of the wonderful Summers I spent on holidays and at home, at beaches and pools and even at school, when we would pray for the temperature to rise above 100F so they would send us all home, no a/c in schools in the 60's.
The "sand dance" where you would hop over scalding sand to the cooler damp parts near the water, or in the opposite direction towards the car when it was time to go home. 
Chocolate Paddle Pops, and one for the cat, when on the rare occasion Dad would actually stop the car on the hot drive up to our holiday house.
Said car "boiling" with all of us kids in the back wondering if we'd ever get there while we sat by the side of the road waiting for the radiator to cool down.  No seat belt laws then, there were five of us.
Eating watermelon on the back steps, spitting the seeds down the yard hoping they'd grow.  They never did.
Thongs on our feet, striped beach towels with tassles, and white zinc cream on our noses.
Cricket on the radio, not the telly.  Sometimes Mum or Dad (or both!) would come for a swim with us, what a treat that was.
The bleached concrete of the local municipal pool, we would walk there, no lifts from parents then.  The smell of chlorine, hot popcorn.  Sunburn and peeling skin.  That hot, dry satisfied feeling as you went to sleep after a fun day in the sun. 
Flippers and goggles on holidays.  Hot canvas on caravan holidays at Bundeena or Wisemans Ferry.
The smell of kero hurricane lamps late at night as we dozed off to sleep in the annex.  "Deb" mashed potatoes and "Surprise Peas" as Mum tried to take it a bit easy when we were on holiday.  Burnt snags on some improvised bbq.
Paper dolls and salty ham and tomato rolls. 
Bindy eyes, and my sisters teaching me to roll my feet as I walked to avoid getting them in my feet.
The old general store at Bundeena that had been there for a hundred years, or so it seemed, cool and filled with oddities and a deep, dank scent that spoke of the holidays of earlier generations.
I wonder what my own children's memories of Summer will be?