It getting hot, hot, HOT

How's this for irony? I spent the last eight years or so of my life griping about the heat in Singapore and plotting to escape it, only to find, having had a reprieve of eight months, more hot weather. Grrr....it's 31 degrees in London; that's even hotter than Singapore. My fiend the heat headache said hello before slamming into my frontal lobe. Someone fix environmental controls! You know I have watched way too much Trek when I start spouting things like frontal lobe and environmental controls. But I digress.

Meanwhile, Londoners went mad with the weather. More crazy angmohs (in nothing but shorts or underwear) tanned, played in their tiny plot of lands called gardens, mowed lawns. The weatherman chirpily announced the temperature, with a "Will this weather last?" in a hopeful tone. You get the drift.

But I have become more philosophical with age - it's more "C'est la vie" for me than "Kill, kill". Of course, it could be that I can slouch around in short slips and tank tops and short skirts around the house now. No Mummy to go, "Baju apa ni?" (What on earth are you wearing?) - not that I try. Plus, I hacked off my hair, with Nazir doing the final trimming. Now, I sport a ear-length bob with a fringe. A fringe! Harks to my primary school days. Q. fun. Nazir is reconciled to the short hair; like most men, he prefers long hair - hah! Bloody hot, innit. He had to conceed I look quite cute with short hair - "I told you so"-s all round. Hmmm...am not very gracious in victory.

Two of Nazir's exams are over. Phew. Am getting quite sick of cooking, truth be told. It's his turn starting next week!