Atrophy be Damned!!
The Exclamation Mark in Art. |
It's the weather forecast, stoopid!
So it's forecast to be the hottest day of the year. We've walked the dogs and and breakfasted every man, woman and beast (and other). J's been asked to travel to the west of England for work tomorrow (which is utter madness) and is concerned about tyre pressure, the risk of mechanical and tyre failure forefront in her mind, and her idiot bosses have called a meeting for the hottest day of the year.
Today they cancelled it.
I always wonder what takes these people so long to figure shit out. The meteorological centres use some of the biggest computers in the world. It's for our benefit. Why leave it to the last moment?
Fyfe and I are due to start a project in Teddington and we're sensibly taking Monday and Tuesday off as it is unhealthily hot to do any manual labour. Many's the time I've worked in 30 degrees plus. You take on gallons of water and you sweat it all out - your t-shirt ends up white with salt - and in the evening you finally do a very low yield of pee that looks like creosote.
Very few things are worth that amount of toil - I'm not putting myself through it when it's not a matter of life or death.
I'm keeping cool by closing the curtains in the morning and keeping the doors shut. Leaving the windows open with the sun streaming in and you'll be as hot as it is outside. Makes sense don't it?
Plus I love to let the darkness enshroud me.
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