OKAY summer, thanks for the memories.
I enjoyed the swims and the holidays and Christmas and all that, but I've had enough now. Off you go.
A couple of days of dripping, depleting, debilitating sweat and even the great fans of summer such as myself start to turn on it, yearning for those cosy winter nights of a few months ago; a fire burning in the hearth, woollen jumpers, red wine, dinner bubbling gently in the slow cooker, a doona up to our neck and crisp, frosty mornings where you can see your breath when you exhale.
O' winter, where art thou, winter?
The BoM may maintain it was only 38.5 degrees on Saturday but we all know it was much, much hotter than that. I've cooked legs of lamb in a gentler heat.
My mother, who despises winter and likes nothing better than to clean all her walls and windows on 40+ degree days, declared it was even too hot for her.
She is even thinking of getting air conditioning "just for days like this".
So I am not sure what Nirvana-like conditions prevail where the Bureau records Gympie's official temperatures, but it wasn't anywhere near my place. We are in for more of the same as of tomorrow, so it would pay to find that spot and park yourself there.
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