It’s late, I am in bed, I should be sleeping but I can’t. It is so hot. Roasting. Boiling. Sweltering. It’s like a sauna, a furnace. You could fry an egg on my stomach.
I have a massive floor standing fan blasting air onto me while I lie, uncovered on top of the duvet but I still feel like am in an oven. The fan isn’t doing much though, just moving the warm air around.
One thing I haven’t done, maybe stupidly is open a window. This is mainly due to one reason – spiders. They see my bedroom as a nice place to live and I would hate to wake up and find a huge beast on my bed at 3am. I don’t want to have a heart attack aged 24.
To be honest, I don’t know how much difference having a window open would actually make. According to my weather station it is practically as hot outside as it is in and with no breeze to cool me down, opening the window seems pretty pointless.
The weather is supposed to get hotter again tomorrow and there are warnings about a possible heat wave. The BBC keep advising if anybody is suffering too much with the heat to call NHS Direct, the call centre staff must love that. Still, it’s better than Old Ethel ringing 999 to complain about her sweaty armpits.
I think I will end this late, late blog and bid you farewell. If you are reading this in Antarctica, freezing your toes off, consider yourself a lucky sod.
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