I don't know about you, but I have had enough of this hot spell we are having at the moment. Now I love the sunshine and the heat, but these last few days have really knocked the stuffing out of me. If only we had a paddling pool which I could lower my overheated body into, then I would be marginally happier, but unfortunately because my children are now aged between 19-26, I can't really justify having a Peppa Pig Pool in the garden. My neighbours might assume that I have grandchildren on the way, and I can't have that, can I?
Yesterday, as the mercury soared, I moped around the house, going from the fridge (which is my favourite place to stand at the moment) to the shower, from the sofa to the kitchen but nowhere was cool enough to sit down. So I did what every normal woman would do, and decided to clean the house. Well, I figured if I was going to be wandering around the house aimlessly then I might as well be pushing the Hoover (other vacuums are available).
So I started in son number two's bedroom, as he has an electric fan. Wandering around the room, turning the fan so that it pointed towards me, I picked up, threw away, hung up and folded. By the time I had got his room to a state where I was happy to remove the gas mask, the sweat was running off me like a river. I managed to do the lounge and the kitchen, before collapsing in a sodden heap on the sofa, arms and legs spread like a star to avoid any parts of my skin touching another.
The only upside was that at least parts of the house looked presentable. This lasted for exactly seventeen minutes and thirty three seconds. This was when sons one and two and the husband came home.
'What's for dinner?' asked son number one.
Oh for goodness sake, if they thought I was going anywhere near an oven, then they had another thing coming.
'Chicken Fajitas', I said forcefully. 'I'm not doing anything else, so you can cook it yourselves'.
And surprisingly, they did.
I shall have to try that approach more often...