This week, Facebook has been flooded with news of the UK’s heatwave, and the hot and sweaty plight of my friends and family (us Brits are unused to warm weather as a rule, and are not built to cope with it).

It was extremely tempting to mock them all with the fact that’s it’s 46 degrees here, and has been pretty consistently for the last month, so therefore 2 days of 30 degrees is hardly unbearable. (That’s 46 degree celcius for you non-metric people of the world – about 115 degrees if you’re working in farenheit)

However, then I remembered that it’s also Ramadan, and my amazing Kurdish and Arabic colleagues are not only going out into the 46 degree hear every day to provide much-needed support to people, but they also can’t eat or drink any water for 17 hours straight. And they come in to work every day and do it all over again with a smile on their faces.

Trust me when I tell you that, based on past experience of my own grumpiness factor when my blood sugar level drops too low, if I had to go out into 46 degree heat everyday and stand in the sun distributing emergency kits without a single drop of water or food for 17 hours, I’d either collapse or start World War 3.