As a concept, it's great. Blue skies, sun beating down, not a cloud in sight. Glorious. And, if you can sit by a pool in just your shorts reading a book and sipping a beer, it most certainly is. However, when the practicality of temperature in the early thirties involves un-air-conditioned trains and having to wear trousers because no-one in the office wants to see your knees, then it stops being conceptually lovely. Add to this a biological make-up that means that the amount of sweat you produce at the barest hint of heat makes you look like you're permanently standing under a shower and it becomes a less than pleasant time of year.
I know what you're thinking. "Typical bloody Englishman, whinges about the cold weather and then whinges about the heat." Well, you're wrong, my friend. I like the winter and I stood up for it a while back. When it's cold outside and you can come in warm yourself up, that's a splendid feeling. When everywhere you turn is hot and there's no way to cool yourself down to stop the constant flow of sweat, that is a less welcome feeling.
So, until the weather cools down a bit, a pox on it, I say. Fie on this damnable heat and yah boo sucks to boot. The one saving grace at the moment? Some wondrous genius invented the air conditioner and someone equally marvellous saw fit to install it in our office. Of course, when I find that magical career that allows me to lounge in the heat in my pants and drink beer by the pool then bring it on! Until then, I'll be pressing myself up against the fridge and licking the ice cubes.
P.S. Much like a computer, at higher temperatures, my brain has a tendency to overheat and cease functioning. Hence a couple of days of bloggy quietude. This intermittent service may well continue until it cools the fuck down.