It must be the heat

It's too hot.

I'm a stereotypical Brit - when we get weather that would be described as 'fairly warm' by a large proportion of the world's population, I will immediately run inside the house, half-draw all the curtains to keep the sun out, try to find the coolest[1] clothes in my wardrobe and loll around complaining about the heat.

The London weather forecast for the next five days shows maximum temperatures of 34°C, 32°C, 32°C, 36°C and 33°C. Bleh. Saturday (the 36°C day) is the day I'm supposed to be having a trial drive to Farnborough so that I know how to get there (for new job) if/when the trains are cancelled. This adds up to almost two hours in the car on the hottest day of the year, and is consequently starting to sound like not the best idea.

I was going to write a longish, hopefully interesting post today but my brain's gone all kerplooie in the heat, so I'm having difficulty forming coherent sentences, let alone cogent arguments.

On the plus side, I've found that a few icecubes in a little plastic bag can provide a wonderful cooling-down service in the few minutes before they melt. Whereby you can then drink the few mouthfuls of ice-cold water. That last assuming, of course, that you can actually undo the knot in the neck of the bag before the water heats to room- or hand-temperature.

A note to heed, also. Don't do this over a keyboard, either the untying or the attempting to drink from a plastic bag.

As another plus, though, the water all down my front did cool me off briefly before it evaporated.