Hot

It's hot. Too hot. And I don't very much like it. It's OK when I'm at work; but after work, that's another story.

Last night I went for a delicious dinner at P&B's. B had made szechuan chicken (courtesy of Herbie) and P had topped the meal off brilliantly with pêche melba and ice-cream so it was a very satisfying evening.

Then I went home and tried to sleep which was a silly idea. Because I'd left the back door open while I watched some rubbish on the telly I had to spray the whole living area before I retired to my bedroom. A room which, although I'd left the ceiling fan on, was still very warm. I read for a while (re-reading The chronicles of Narnia that Tat lent me) and then tried to sleep.

Alas, no sleep came. I lay there, trying to get comfortable, to get cool. But to no avail.

Then the room was invaded by a manic blowfly which zoomed around dementedly, banging into the walls, bashing the light fitting, dive-bombing the bed. It think it was cross that I'd left it in a living area full of flyspray.

This all went on much too long. I think I must have finally lost the will to fight around 2am and succumbed to sleep.

This morning I feel ghastly but at least work is cool. (Not cool, just cool.) Now I just have to keep my eyes open and concentarte.

What fun, 41 is forecast for Sunday...