hot, hot, hot

I know what you are thinking.  When Derran Brown says that, you are inclined to believe him, and a person likening himself to someone who has Jedi powers you may also be inclined to believe, however, and I am letting the jabawaki out the bag here, I am just an ordinary bloke.

However, in this instance, I really do think I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking "Arrogant beggar, talking about himself again."  But no, dear reader (and I fear you are in the singular now), I am referring to the weather, of course.

Us Brits are obsessed with it.  When it is cold, we want it hot.  When it is hot, we want it cold.  When it is wet, we want it dry.  When it is dry, we want it wet.  You get the idea.  Right now, it is fair to say, it is pretty hot.  Combine the fair weather with a life spent in London, then the effect is magnified.  And don't even get me started on the Central Line.  That is global warming all on its own.  If you throw in the need for a tie and suit, then you have the makings of one very hot little Scobi Wan Kenobi.  My whole day is spent being either a bit hotter or a lot hotter than I want to be. 

So what is a guy to do.  So far, not a lot, except perspire quietly and long for that French holiday home with its magnificent swimming pool.  Being off the beer during the week just adds to the injustice of it all.  I just thank all that is good in the world that my hotel room has a good air conditioning unit that, on entry to said room, is turned up to eleven, to cool the room and everything therein.

I just thought I would let you know about that.

Off to London for 3 nights now, and already cannot wait for the weekend.  Will no doubt have a chance to blog from my hotel room, with my meal-for-one room-service watching some dodgy bit of TV.  Or I may read.  Or have a bath (cool of course).  Whatever it is I will be doing, you can be assured that it will all be carried out at an even nineteen degrees centigrade.