I had a blog post in mind for today but I’m afraid it evaporated along with my temporary sanity. I’ve regained the use of the linguistic portion of the brain to express this simple statement: “It’s more than a little hot.”
I say this after discovering my kitchen appliances have fused together, my shower gel has caught on fire and my wife seems to have melted. The culprit for this heat-wave is more than the sun; our flat seems to capture heat and won’t release it for quite some time.
I’m aware that acquaintances we have in Texas would wrap up in multiple layers for this temperature but for a Brit, born and bred, this feels like drowning in a pot of boiling honey.
Griping aside, I’m hoping to make something of a point in this post but I can’t find it in this mess of scorched brain matter.
I suppose if all I desired were popularity, I would probably try to blame the weather on the Tories or I’d unnecessarily protest outside Nick Cleggs’ house but I think I’ll refrain from allying myself with rabble of that sort.
PS: I’ve just found out that our post-it notes have quite literally fused together to form a solid block of multi-coloured paper.
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