Apollo Rides At Low Altitudes.

Nope. Far too warm today.

It’s the same as yesterday, which I dubbed as “nope. Way too warm today” day. I’m sitting here, in my garden, shorts and shirt, and all I can think of is getting work done.

That’s exactly what I’ve been doing since yesterday, albeit not always in the garden, but this… heatwave doesn’t seem to want me to work.

I’m getting a blog post done though, although I think that’s largely through to my own stereotypically British ironic enthusiasm for complaining about something that’s not being effervescently rewarding.

This heat doesn’t so much as stab at your skin as if Sol has some kind of dermaphobia, no. No. No, instead Sol is just content to press up a duck-feathered pillow (of which has been sitting on the radiator for the last hour) into your face and to wait for the struggling to stop and let our bodies fall without a struggle into autumn.

Fuck you, Sol.

…I love you, Sol. Please don’t go supernova.

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