Having a Very Melting Christmas

Today was hot. Yesterday was hot. The day before was hot. When we have a few scorchers in a row in Heavenly Beverley, we become rather frayed of temper. Last night I didn't turn off the aircon and open up the house until the early hours of the morning. I closed up again by nine o'clock.

I dispensed with my bra. That way, the sweat had free access to roll down my front and back, without getting dammed up under my boobs. At some stage during the afternoon, I discarded my sandals, trying to reduce the temperature of my feet on the relative coolness of the concrete floor.

The day wore on. Vincent Street became deserted. The East End Gallery was supposed to be open under seven thirty. I posted cheery updates on Facebook and Twitter counting down to the drawing of the Christmas raffle. The winner was delighted to be rung.

I pulled the pin just after six. I had turned into a round, moist human splodge of grease.I was not having fun anymore. I figured if anyone was desperate enough to view the Gallery tonight, they would ring us.

Two hours later, I have been restored. I have been in the pool. I am wearing knickers and a towel in our air-conditioned living room. Bliss.

I had hopes of making eggnog and wrapping presents tonight. I may get to these tasks because I actually want to! Or I may just admit defeat and go to bed...

hoping for a thunderstorm...

not tonight. Still 33 degrees at 8.24 pm.