The weather on Wednesday night was fecking horrible!
I can honestly say that in the 38 years I have been on this planet, I have never lost so much sleep due to the heat.
At one point, Claire – equally as overheated as me – gave up and went downstairs to our front room. The temperature on the ground floor was probably in the high twenties, but apparently felt blissfully cool compared to the furnace of the bedroom. It must have been, as she managed to get herself two hours kip, on our old, uncomfortable sofa (more about the sofa on a future blog).
Since then, we’ve only experienced small patches of rain. Despite the BBC continuing to promise thunder and lightning, there hasn’t been any. They’re liars.
The temperatures are dropping in the house, which I suppose is all we can ask for. Actually, no! I was promised a massive thunderstorm – where’s my massive thunderstorm?
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