Hot potato

It is officially too hot to write. 32 degrees…I ask you, is that fair? I know it’s a cliche for one from our isles to whine on about the weather, but I never stress on about the cold, so why not just allow me to be utterly miserable in this ridiculous heat?

I – and I will say this delicately for my own sake – am a well-insulated kinda guy. Stick me in any temperature above 11 degrees and I struggle. Come the nuclear winter, I’ll be laughing, but in the meantime I must simply endure.

About writing – I have certainly used this temperature as a reason to neglect my writing, but if I can manage to write up the coupla thousand words I’ve already done long-hand then I will satisfy myself.

In retrospect and re-reading the above paragraph,  I am unsure whether “Satisfy myself” is really the best choice of words here, but as I say – It is too hot to write! (published 28 May 2012)


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