The highest here was 92F - that's 36 according to the European side of my thermo.
Fortunately I was inured to it having suffered through The Summer Of '76.
I know ..... let's all tell stories about '76 ..... OK, just me then

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It wasn't only the 3 months of searing temps, it was the lack of rain. All over, there were standpipes (although for some reason not where we lived in the miggle of Brum), which was strange.
Houses built on clay subsided because the clay was so dry it crumbled and the houses either crashed down or at least dropped by 3 ft.
5 ins of bath water which then went onto the garden veggies.
In the evening we used to sit with both the front door and back door wide open to attempt to get a through draught. The neighbourhood cats had to be hunted down from upstairs at bedtime.
I worked for B'ham Council, which even in the hippie decade had an unwritten dress code. Blouses and skirts for the ladies and a suit for the men or you were in front of a firing squad before you could do up your top button. Sod the threat of instant death - the men took off their jackets and appeared in short-sleeved shirts and I distinctly remember working in a pair of thin cotton slacks and a t-shirt !!!
That summer was the only time I actually grew a lychee outside in the garden - 'onest, I did. Ever so proud of my one and only outdoor lychee. Of course it died as soon as the temp. fell.
The Govt. was powerless but wouldn't admit it and Harold Wilson made a guy called Dennis Howell the Minister for Drought. Gaaawwwd knows what he was supposed to do but it caused much nationwide merriment until about a week after his appointment the rain began and it rained and rained for about 2 months through Sept and Oct.
There were even more jokes then, not least of which were from Dennis himself !!
Bumper stickers appeared begging him to stop the ceaseless downpour.
I could go on .......