It’s hot. It’s been really hot. And it’s going to get hot again. Oh hai! Welcome to summer in Melbourne! And/or Adelaide, which has also had it’s own 1-in-100-year heatwave. Or so they say. I think they’re just jealous. Anyway, I think I have mentioned on here before that I don’t do well over 30 degrees, and I shut down over 35. Imagine the joyous bundle of fun I was when the temperature went over 40 for a week, and the copious amounts of patience I displayed on the 44 degree days. Yes, days. Plural. (44C = 111F, FEEL MY PAIN IN BOTH HEMISPHERES.) (That’s what SHE said.) There’s another 44 degree day coming on Saturday, apparently. Suck. I mean, oh yay! Hey, you know when you open a fan-forced oven, and a massive gust of hot air hits you in the face and body and engulfs you relentlessly in a steady stream of dry heat? That is what awaits me on Saturday. The wind! The hot wind! The beating of his hideous heart! Wait, where was I? Oh yes, being driven insane by weather. Carry on.
Having said that, it hasn’t been THAT bad – my sister has been visiting, and although she was stuck in Melbourne’s hottest week in 100 years, she did fine. They were over to watch the tennis at the Australian Open, and to buy everything in the state. Status: success! We also did a lot of swimming at the beach (not sitting on the beach, which is for mad dogs and Englishmen). Our method is to walk down, loll in the water for an hour, including the dog, then head straight back to the aircon. That pretty much kept us sane… look how normal and rational we look!
Oh hai. I’m in the back, with my head doubling over itself.
Yeah, it does that sometimes.
