wilting (reprise)

Is it the done thing to be world weary on a Tuesday morning, after a long weekend?

I rather hope it is, because that's the position I'm in at the moment. Summer has returned, and brought with it the disruption of regular sleep patterns thanks largely to the heat¹ it is liberally dumping on us. Happily, a lot of people seem still to be on holiday as the tube was very empty this morning, so it was only vile, not completely unbearable.

Six months after the move, I still haven't perfected the concept of reading on the tube ride each morning and evening. In the morning, I'm happier to sit and doze for a half hour before panicking that I've missed my change at Euston. In an evening, I am generally too busy attempting to keep my face out of other people's day-old armpits to concentrate, and by the time the train is empty enough to sit down, typically East Finchley, or Finchley Central, all motivation to engage with the written word has been subsumed by the need for fresh, deodorant and sweat free air.

Mmm. Nice.

If ever I win a decent sum on the National Lottery, or Lotto as they have re-christened it in an attempt to soak further money from our pockets,I shall hire a a couple of punka-wallahs to follow the sahib around and keep his vast imperial bulk cool in all temperatures over about 75^o. Of course if I win enough, I shall just move in to a turreted and ivy-clad mansion equipped with ice-cold air conditioning, and spend my days slicing golf balls through the conservatory window from the inside with a nine iron.


¹This is British heat and should in no way be confused with your fancy foreign heat. We get far more annoyance with far fewer degrees than do you. Think of it as an efficiency saving.

wilting (reprise)

Is it the done thing to be world weary on a Tuesday morning, after a long weekend?

I rather hope it is, because that's the position I'm in at the moment. Summer has returned, and brought with it the disruption of regular sleep patterns thanks largely to the heat¹ it is liberally dumping on us. Happily, a lot of people seem still to be on holiday as the tube was very empty this morning, so it was only vile, not completely unbearable.

Six months after the move, I still haven't perfected the concept of reading on the tube ride each morning and evening. In the morning, I'm happier to sit and doze for a half hour before panicking that I've missed my change at Euston. In an evening, I am generally too busy attempting to keep my face out of other people's day-old armpits to concentrate, and by the time the train is empty enough to sit down, typically East Finchley, or Finchley Central, all motivation to engage with the written word has been subsumed by the need for fresh, deodorant and sweat free air.

Mmm. Nice.

If ever I win a decent sum on the National Lottery, or Lotto as they have re-christened it in an attempt to soak further money from our pockets,I shall hire a a couple of punka-wallahs to follow the sahib around and keep his vast imperial bulk cool in all temperatures over about 75^o. Of course if I win enough, I shall just move in to a turreted and ivy-clad mansion equipped with ice-cold air conditioning, and spend my days slicing golf balls through the conservatory window from the inside with a nine iron.


¹This is British heat and should in no way be confused with your fancy foreign heat. We get far more annoyance with far fewer degrees than do you. Think of it as an efficiency saving.