I have found it far to warm of late to do very much at all and that includes writing. The idea of going out and doing the garden makes me want to collapse in a puddle of sweaty despair and getting in the car and driving to the coast, stalled by a desperate vain vision of not finding a parking space for miles and again just melting into a puddle of sweaty sticky horribleness.
I do not like the warm weather of late, it is getting to be a little too much and just sitting down doing very little is enough to break out in a dripping mess. One might almost say it is too hot to fuck, but being single right now, I cannot rightly put this idea to the test. maybe with regular breaks for refreshments like they are doing in the football and taking it slow and easy then maybe, but nothing vigorous. Actually bring on the challenge and we may even go down the coast for the day.
As for reading material and the book I have read the most. thats got to be the Lord of The Rings by JRR Tolkien. I must have read it a good ten times and dare I say it, will probably read it a good few times more before I am done.
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