My first post in a while. It’s not that nothing interesting is going on – the crisis in the Middle East (and its accompanying media coverage); John Reid and the Feckless Office; Margaret Beckett embarassing us on the world stage; Prescott’s continuing amusements. And, of course, “Yo Blair!” I have plenty of opinions about it all too. Maybe I’ll write some more considered posts over the next few weeks. But to be honest, the real reason for my lack of activity is this heat.
I just don’t deal well with heat; I mean it’s absolutely exhausting. I’m a late-to-bed, late-to-rise sort of person, and by 11am or midday, my room is like a greenhouse. Just getting up is a struggle of epic proportions. Of course, it’s quite literally a case of the frying pan or the fire… And once I do get up, and I’ve had a cold shower (the first of several), it’s only an hour until that freshly laundered t-shirt is sticking to my back. This while I’m contorted in all manner of different shapes trying to scratch the bites from the inevitable insect onslaught. I’m a blood bank for the insect population of the South East.
The nation doesn’t deal very well with heat either. Tar peeling off the roads in town centres, the inevitable “bad sun on the line”, the complete lack of air conditioning. Even the government is announcing emergency heatwave precautions. (Old ladies! Children! Alcoholics! Runners! Farmworkers! Commuters!) You’ll be pleased to hear that the advice for “at-risk” groups (which is apparently just about everybody) is to “stay inside, close the curtains.” Genius.
Before you accuse me of being a serial British complainer: I’m not. The grass is not greener on the other side – I dread the onset of summer each year for all these reasons. In fact, maybe I do complain a bit, but I just love winter. I love the invigoration of a sharp Autumn morning – the sort just before the dew becomes frost, and your breath hangs on the air for just a minute. I love Christmas: mulled wine, log fires and gathered family. I love hearty stews – what a wonderful, relaxing way to cook. Snow. Wrapping up warm. And scarves! I’m a scarf junkie: I buy a new one (usually with gloves) every year. It’s like a winter ritual for me.
Anyway, I’m off for a shower. (The third, by the way.) And then, hopefully, to dream of a white Christmas…