...beating down on the city streets. I greatly dislike hot weather, and when people say "What a glorious day!" I can only answer "Mmmm. It's hot" or talk about something else as in " Mmmm. I'm just on my way to..." whatever.
The grass turns white and grey. Rooms get stuffy and open windows admit traffic noise and dust rather than cool air. Trains become like ovens. Everyday tasks become less pleasant, but of course still remain to be done. Walking becomes less enjoyable. Small treats like a decision to choose a pleasant route become less possible: the priority has to be on not arriving looking hot and sticky. Heavy luggage becomes a real burden instead of a bearable nuisance.
The rule is to pretend that none of this matters, so I bought some new sandals and walked with a spring in my step. The sandals broke. I've now got another pair. Apart from writing this blog, I am not allowing myself to whinge about the heat and am pretending that it's all hugely delightful. I've got a delicious cool drink and the roses outside the window are lovely if rather tired. The washing has dried quickly on the line. It's nice chatting to neighbours as people are out and about instead of shut indoors. Lots of people all over the world live with searingly hot weather all the time.