Writing the summerhouse,

In the baking heat,

Trying to relax and stretch, 

On a hot seat.

No double glazed windows

No insulation to keep us cool.

Only the doors to open

See the little pool.

The steam is rising from my head,

My feet feel like lead.

Hot and humid

Wringing wet

Skin is dripping

With sweat.

Then the radio blared out

34 degrees at Heathrow

Cold, cool, frozen, water, shivering, teeth chattering….none of these are here right now.

If I had got ice or ice cream I would eat it like snow.

Thats what I want, you know.

Darkening sky and rising breeze,

Thunder rumbles overhead

Drops of water trickle down

Now heat and wind have fled.

A streak of lightening,

A whip of lightening Streaks the air

Then the pub returns a blare

Of House, rap, and garage music.

It’s not the heat that drives me in.

But the beat that does my head in!