Furnace Friday

Claggy. That’s the word: claggy.

Today is the hottest day of then year so far. It’s not so much in the great scheme of things and there are plenty of places on the planet that get much warmer, but it’s plenty hot for me. Yet again I find myself agreeing with the refrain, “it’s not so much the temperature as the humidity”. Well, that’s London for you. I like the Old Girl, but summer does her no favours.

So of course I come into work all hot and bothered, jacket folded into rucksack but hot and sweaty anyway after the Tube. I get into the office and switch on my computer, but don’t physically have time to log in or do anything else, before I am whisked off across the city to a meeting with Treasury Solicitors in Chancery Lane. That’s two hours of boredom right there. I took notes for the first hour or so, but then lost the thread when what seemed like a moment’s diversion of no consequence expanded into a full three-quarter hour discussion. At that point, slowly cooling in my damp and uncomfortable shirt, my main task was to try and stay awake in that exaggerated eye-rolling excessively wide-eyed way you do.

Still, they had proper filter coffee, much better than anything we get comped at our place when outsiders visit. I noticed too, that they had four cases of wine secreted around the meeting room and reception. Truly I work in the wrong field.

Right now, I am just thankful that the air conditioning is working in this place – aided, I expect by the fact that there is a lot of empty desks as people take the opportunity, I guess, for a long weekend. All I want to do is get home, have a cool shower and dig out some clothes that are both cooler and dryer.

And I must stay awake!

Furnace Friday

Claggy. That’s the word: claggy.

Today is the hottest day of then year so far. It’s not so much in the great scheme of things and there are plenty of places on the planet that get much warmer, but it’s plenty hot for me. Yet again I find myself agreeing with the refrain, “it’s not so much the temperature as the humidity”. Well, that’s London for you. I like the Old Girl, but summer does her no favours.

So of course I come into work all hot and bothered, jacket folded into rucksack but hot and sweaty anyway after the Tube. I get into the office and switch on my computer, but don’t physically have time to log in or do anything else, before I am whisked off across the city to a meeting with Treasury Solicitors in Chancery Lane. That’s two hours of boredom right there. I took notes for the first hour or so, but then lost the thread when what seemed like a moment’s diversion of no consequence expanded into a full three-quarter hour discussion. At that point, slowly cooling in my damp and uncomfortable shirt, my main task was to try and stay awake in that exaggerated eye-rolling excessively wide-eyed way you do.

Still, they had proper filter coffee, much better than anything we get comped at our place when outsiders visit. I noticed too, that they had four cases of wine secreted around the meeting room and reception. Truly I work in the wrong field.

Right now, I am just thankful that the air conditioning is working in this place – aided, I expect by the fact that there is a lot of empty desks as people take the opportunity, I guess, for a long weekend. All I want to do is get home, have a cool shower and dig out some clothes that are both cooler and dryer.

And I must stay awake!