That cold black cloud is coming down (I wish)

The bottom is falling out of Squish's world.

No, wait - I mean the world is falling out of his bottom. A reaction to yesterday's anaesthetic, apparently. Poor squitty lil' bugger.

Also, anyone who wants to tell me that the heat over here is nothing and I should be living where they are where the heat and humidity are such that it rains poached eggs every time there's a flight of pigeons and they have to wear Nomex gloves to touch their car and there are preserved dinosaurs floating in their asphalt driveway - don't. Just don't. I know most of you live in much hotter climates than I do. Why do you think I don't?

And yes, I will be bitching, whining, pissing and moaning about the heat till October. I'm British - or Cardassian, depending on which persona's nearest the top at any given moment - and I like complaining.

One of these days I really am going to move to the Falkland Islands. Or else, if I win the Lottery this week, spend the rest of my life travelling in a circuit round the world like a snowbird in reverse, arranging to arrive everywhere just as the climate is roughly equivalent to a southern English late October, and moving on the moment outdoor plants stop having to be frost hardy.

Here's a picture of the Falkland Islands. This is where I want to be.

That cold black cloud is coming down (I wish)

The bottom is falling out of Squish's world.

No, wait - I mean the world is falling out of his bottom. A reaction to yesterday's anaesthetic, apparently. Poor squitty lil' bugger.

Also, anyone who wants to tell me that the heat over here is nothing and I should be living where they are where the heat and humidity are such that it rains poached eggs every time there's a flight of pigeons and they have to wear Nomex gloves to touch their car and there are preserved dinosaurs floating in their asphalt driveway - don't. Just don't. I know most of you live in much hotter climates than I do. Why do you think I don't?

And yes, I will be bitching, whining, pissing and moaning about the heat till October. I'm British - or Cardassian, depending on which persona's nearest the top at any given moment - and I like complaining.

One of these days I really am going to move to the Falkland Islands. Or else, if I win the Lottery this week, spend the rest of my life travelling in a circuit round the world like a snowbird in reverse, arranging to arrive everywhere just as the climate is roughly equivalent to a southern English late October, and moving on the moment outdoor plants stop having to be frost hardy.

Here's a picture of the Falkland Islands. This is where I want to be.