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It’s hot. I know it’s hot because an amazing percentage of the weblogs I read have mentioned it
So it’s hot, and so I have this urge to lie in bed and do nothing.

Tried that. Bed’s too hot to.

We have a country-wide fan shortage, apparently. Or at least Reading-wide. Can’t get one for love nor money (I assume. I haven’t tried Love in exchange for air-con), but then in a wonderful brainwave, LoneCat remembered that the portable heater also blows cold air! Yay! Coolness. Though limited to keeping my ankles warm, which isn’t quite so wonderful. I’m not built for hot weather, I melt. Ah well, I have home-made Banoffee Pie, and home-made Banananana Loaf (We had excess of bananas).

It really is hot, though. The BBC announced a new record yesterday (First in Heathrow, which is not that far from here) and the Guardian managed to fry an egg on the pavement. Ick. Much much too hot.

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