Today in London it was 33° Celsius. That’s 91° Fahrenheit for all you American types out there. It’s 9pm now, and it’s still 28°.
And that, my friends, is too freaking hot. Now, of course, I’d be all used to that kind of heat if I lived in Australia or California or even Toronto. But if I lived in those places I would probably have air conditioning.
I would sell my soul right now for air conditioning.
It’s too hot to be inside, because of the previously mentioned lack of air conditioning. It’s too hot to be outside, because of the scorching sun. I was sitting on the flat roof outside my window for about half an hour, and realized two things.
First that it was too hot for that kind of madness. And second that if I stayed out for any longer I would be the colour of … well, something that’s really red, despite my liberal coating of sunscreen. I’m just too pale for that kind of madness.
Add to that the fact that I was hungover, and the fan that I ever so cleverly bought a few weeks ago is too freaking small to do anything useful and the fact that I am currently trying to be on a budget and not do things like go to air-conditioned movie theatres, and what you have is an irritable and slightly sweaty Alice.
What does that leave me to do? Complain.
I want to have a garden, like Buffy’s delightful garden in which we barbequed yesterday afternoon. Or a garden like Nathan’s, in which we drank and made merry at his birthday party last night (please see the aforementioned hangover). Or a roof terrace like Clare’s, on which there were many delightful barbeques last year and many to come this year. Or a huge balcony/terrace thing like Heather’s, on which there is actually room for furniture and you can access it using a door rather than climbing out of a window, which is not very graceful and fabulous. Especially when you have to try to be careful to not knock over the fishes.
Did I mention that I’m irritable? Extreme heat does that to me.
I know that heat is relative, and if I was back in Toronto then I’d be all “ooh, it’s a bit warm today, isn’t it?”, rather than moaning about the heat.
Of course, in Toronto right now it’s 22°.
And, in Toronto, I lived in an air-conditioned condo, drove an air-conditioned car and worked in an air-conditioned office.
Like I said – irritable. And don’t even get me started on the conflicted weather reports for tomorrow. It’s either going to be sunny and again freakishly hot, or all thunderstormy. How is a girl to make sensible footwear decisions?
Did I mention? Too freaking hot.