If you can't stand the heat, get out of the bedroom!

Boy is it hot! "So what do you expect?", I hear my unsympathetic critics in sun-starved Antarctica cry this month as they read this, "It is 'flaming June' after all"

Alright, I take your point and I've also taken a break of over a fortnight, I know, since my last posting to Anyway. But I can assure you, dear reader, that my absence hasn't been due to soaking up the sun, because until this weekend we've seen little enough of our celestial life-sustainer to rave about, nor have the temperatures been anything to write home- or indeed write blog- about for quite a bit of June which is now nearly two thirds gone, already and sadly.

We Britons are such a strange breed when it comes to the weather. When the sun doesn't shine,And it's cloudy all day,
And it's only the beginning
Of the Wombling day,
And you've got to do the washing up
For Madame Cholet .

Oh dear, I seem to have stumbled upon a Wombles website and entered into silly mode. Perhaps I've got Wombledon, or rather Wimbledon, on the brain with the prospect of another fortnight of glorious tennis starting in London, SW19 tomorrow, even if I can no longer laze and enjoy it in the afternoon since I start a training week in mh new job in London, W1 tomorrow. No, I think my remembrances of those furry "greens" of my teens ( I can't quite admit to them being from my childhood!) is more likely due to the heat. Excuse me while I leave the bedroom and go and do the washing up not for Madame Cholet but Matt and me, and have a nice cup of tea, the refreshing British answer to everything. Well it is heading towards three after all, and everything stops for tea.