Now...we don't do 'hot'...we don't have temps of 30c...'cos that's just silly. Our weather forecast veers towards clouds and a sprinkle...or a downpour of rain. We don't have cloudless blue skies actually unless it's the middle of winter and there's a sharp frost or snow on the ground. Then we might.
I go to bed hot and wake up hot...my hair sticks firmly to the side of my head and my armpits are soggy...
It was only a few weeks ago I read that young Irish women need to take supplements of Vit D because we get so little sun here...now we have sun and plenty to spare...
It's changed our routine you know...instead of fencing and mending and clearing out stables and making new hayracks for the winter and sewing and a spot of weeding...we sit about and heave heavy sighs and flap our hands about and supper is cold every night and I'd rather not see a lettuce ever again if it's all the same to you and the fruit bushes are laden down with Blackcurrants and Gooseberries but standing out there with my bowl has me almost melted.
The cats hide under the Rhubarb leaves and eat their food in a desultory fashion and then disappear to watch the tiny fish in the river...they perch on the stones with the water flowing past them and bat hopefully at shoals of baby Roach then clamber back into the garden and retreat under the Rhubarb leaves once more...
The old goat stays in her shed and only ventures out into our little field once the sun is down and then the bats come out and swoop and flitter among the old trees and she startles when they swoop above her head and looks up...her mouth full of grass and her chin stained green, she chews thoughtfully and goes back to grazing again.
The dogs just sleep. They sleep from the time they come back from their early morning walk until it's teatime at five o'clock...then they sleep all the night long until early in the morning...
They chased a young Mink the other morning but didn't catch nor corner it which is just as well 'cos they are vicious and will bite to defend themselves...but that left them knackered and they slept even more soundly when they came home.
I itch and stratch and want a bath every five minutes and the flies come in and get stuck on the flypaper and make horrible buzzing noises when their wings are sticky and then I feel sorry for them though how one can feel sorry for a fly I'm not altogether sure.
So I spend the afternoons exploring records of unfortunate men who met their deaths in nasty ways and sending messages back and forth with someone who is vaguely related and another whose ancestor is also mine and is said to have died in China in the 1600's and we puzzle over how that came to be and then I get sidetracked on the recipe for pottage which I'd hesitate to recommend for supper...I like porridge...but a version of porridge with mashed turnips doesn't sound awfully tempting. Then a link to beheading led me to a site about beheadings in Saudi Arabia where the people have their heads sewn back on by a Doctor and there are hundreds of beheadings every year for a multitude of crimes and it made me think a bit about the Hippocratic Oath...and the Doctors who take the heads and sew them back onto the person and how they view their role...
When it's hot like this...and we've not known it as hot before...then my mind either simply stops working or goes into overdrive and my head is stuffed to bursting with ideas but I still itch and stratch and my armpits leak and the very thought of doing anything much at all has me sweating and sighing...