Man Pocky
At the risk of turning this into “Too-Hot-Here Blog,” the weather has been taunting me today. After a week of lovely overcast 16-18 degC weather, today has been back to tarmac-melting, brain-oozing, sweaty-zombie heat. Luckily I’m now well skilled in the art of spending 40 minutes selecting a pint of milk from the fridges in Tesco and in the stylish sporting of a damp towel bandana whilst at home.
I didn’t even have the option of staying in the house today. Our bathroom is being replaced, so the ambiance of the household has - at ten minute intervals - been alternating between a screeching tile saw and tea breaks involving much loud arguing in Polish between the stereotypically inept monkeys hired to fit the suite.
So I bailed out. I wandered around town slowly baking, diving into lovely air conditioned shops every few yards, and cataloging the increasingly vociferous complaints from my knees. (My ‘lift to work’ team have all been off sunning themselves abroad for a couple of weeks, which means I’ve been getting the train and averaging close to five miles of walking per day to and from stations. Add into this playing football regularly on a nasty Astroturf pitch and the clicking and popping from my various leg joints is reaching hilariously noisy levels.)
The obvious solution to all this tiredness and pain was to buy lots of ridiculously named foreign sweets, delicious booze and big bag of ice. The ice is now sitting in bowls in front of various fans in the house, and an evening of wonderfully chilled movie-watching and games-playing awaits. Hooray!