Goodness gracious, my dears, what on earth has happened to the great British weather? Normally variable with a tendency to the inclement, we are quite unbelievably enduring scorching temperatures - why, 'tis almost as if the world be upside down. Being fair of complexion and typically British, one does not "do" heat. The male guardian on the other hand is, as you know, inordinately fond of warm weather, although, even he endures it when going about his professional toil. Quite how the Australian contingent regularly cope with temperatures above 30 degrees during their summer months is beyond one's belief. I am not overly keen on anything too much above 20 degrees, it has to be said, especially when at toil. In our small country home, blinds remain at half mast and windows flung wide at night to aid sleeping, for it is most difficult to be comfortable with night time temperatures at 15 degrees and above - one is more used to seeing the mist of one's breath billowing forth in the cold night air than basking in warmth. I have no doubt the weather front will break soon and our usual service resumed.
The second woollen garment bound for the Australias grows bit by bit, day by day, painstakingly slow, but it grows. Certainly a labour of love in this heat. Delightful mindfulness, click, click, click, the brain and mind intent on the growing garment, such a delightful state after a day of toil and, particularly, whilst waiting for the heat of the day to dissipate.
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