Sweat in the City

This time last week, the Hairy Muse and I were in beautiful Northumberland, squabbling over who got to use the binoculars and whether we had indeed seen an Eider duck or whether it was just another mallard.  We were also: drinking a lot of beer (especially those made by the wonderful Hadrian and Border brewery), getting into the football (very surprising, since we’re usually, massively uninterested), being hassled by very assertive ducks – and sweating.

This last was most unexpected.  We booked the holiday so that we could spend at least one week of June in our fleeces and waterproofs, after a memorable and idyllic time in Orkney some years back, where I even kept my fleece on in the cottage, and it rained a lot.  I suppose we’re a bit odd like that.

Anyway, some consolation that it was hotter in London; at least we had avoided that.  Except that we haven’t, because here we are, still sweating.

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