I’m hot. It’s really warm…Did I mention I was hot?

There is something wonderfully refreshing, in more senses than one, about being able to enjoy the warm Italian evenings, sitting outside in a magnificent Piazza in Florence, sipping a mojito. It is refreshing, in more than one way, given that it’s slightly cooler in the evenings.


You therefore run less of a risk of collapsing in a melted heap and don’t feel the same need to shower every 30 seconds. Having said this,you do not realise what the meaning of ‘I might die of heat’ is, until you take an unbearably crowded Ikea shuttle bus, keeping one arm outstretched to prevent your plastic clothes dryer from crashing down from the overhead luggage rack. I can physically feel that the muscles in my left arm have grown considerably.

Life lessons learnt: I must never again complain about the almost constant rain and cold weather in Scotland. Ah, the cold. How I miss you!


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