Any of you trapped overseas in any of the more moist and over-heated hell-holes of the world may well laugh, but this is England. In the nineties, and as humid as a camel’s underwear. It’s just not right.
That was the temperature inside the Cardinal, but it was also – due to a cunning use of doors flung open, extractors and fans blowing and heat-reflective blinds – the temperature outside.
The read-out on the heating controller in my cabin at the back of the boat was in the same, disgustingly warm, neighbourhood…
Tomorrow, v.depressingly, is forecast by Her Majesty’s Meteorological Office to be a couple of degrees Fahrengezundheiting warmer still.
I just don’t “do” these sorts of temperature/humidity mixes.
Moan moan moan. 😉
By the way, any of you insufficiently polite enough to avoid noticing and/or remarking upon the slight grubbiness of the old-fashioned thermometer to the left of frame should be advised that the item is a family heirloom. My late father bought one such for every room of our house-du-jour in nineteen-seventy-two, which makes this one on the order of forty-eight years old. For obvious reasons I am not going to be too energetic when cleaning near the frangible elements… 😉 I could count the number of houses that this thermometer has seen constant duty in since then, but I am not wearing all of my fingers and toes.
On a slightly less heated note, here is a (dodgy, rushed, long-distance) photograph of that rare combination – as far as I am aware – of moorhen and (well-grown) chick, in public.
Perhaps they’re a common sight, but just like baby pigeons, they are the first that I have noted! What’s not to like about a bird that doesn’t beg at the side-hatch but just gets on with it – and that squeaks like a dog-toy? Moreover, a bird that, like me, has feet sufficiently enormous to get all three of us over any quicksand or mud-flat!
Wish me luck for tomorrow and, should this blog go quiet, well… the Last Will & Testamentation is under the third solicitor to the left.
Ian H., enjoying the relative cool of the brief night and antici………..pating the brief comfort of tomorrow morning, before the sunshine nuttiness kicks in again.