This is all very well...this heatwave thingy...but I keep leaking from every pore and it isn't very nice actually. It's the steriods that make me ooze perspiration all over the place...my hair drips and the Alice band I've taken to wearing gets sodden within minutes...the road is simply squashy with hot tar that's melted into a gooey sludge and walking on it feels like walking over hot coals...and all the little stones clung to the bottom of my Flip-Flops and won't come off without my scraping them on the doorstep.

Eilis lies out on the paving slabs in the full sun and then dashes indoors puffing and panting to throw herself onto the tiles in the kitchen before she repeats the process...over and over again throughout the day, until I'm plain knackered just watching her.

I shout at her and tell her to get a feckin grip of herself and lie down in the cool like the other dogs and she bounces about and her tongue hangs out and her tail wags fit to burst and off she goes again to wallow in the heat...

So, I sat very quietly and hardly moving in front of Ancestry which still won't acknowledge my parents...or anyone else on the tree for that matter...but I did find a relation who was beaten up for no apparent reason in 1858...the chap who assaulted him was fined 19 shillings and sixpence...several members of the same family emigrated to America and another died at the age of thirty from liver disease...

Most of the people today were farmers or Cordwainers...with a smattering of teachers. And one girl was married in the 1700's at the age of fourteen. She went on to birth eighteen children...only eight survived until adulthood.

Something I've noticed time and again is that women were having babies until well into their forties...or...those babies were actually the children of adult daughters who were unmarried. Apparently it was commonplace to say the baby was one's own on a census form to avoid the social stigma of the child born out of wedlock. On the other hand, they could just have remained fertile for longer...but I did doubt one relative who had a baby when she was fifty.

The electricity meter reader man came this morning...he said he had been 'like a boiled beetroot' when he arrived home yesterday...but today he was wearing a long sleeved shirt with a t-shirt underneath...no wonder he was hot. He's a cheery sort of chap altogether...carefully lifts a chair over to stand on so he can read the meter and always apologises profusely for having stood on it...not that he could hope to read those little numbers without something to stand on.

I suppose I'd better brave cooking the supper...