Hot! Damn Hot! #SoCS Sept. 17/16

img_1857

I don’t know if Monday to Thursday this week has been the hottest few days we’ve had in September ever, but it certainly has been rather warm. So… cue trains with no air-conditioning… or so much that us poor passengers felt like we were trapped in a moving fridge (I kid you not!). Thankfully, my office’s air-con has been working well recently, so the temperature has been just right. Although… when I stepped outside for a lunch break, I felt as if I’d walked into a hot duvet.

And… speaking of duvets… too hot with it on, too exposed with it off! I felt all Goldilocks, but never being able to find the scenario that was just right.

I’m not really complaining, honest! It has been lovely to have some late summer sunshine. Perhaps I’d have been better off being born somewhere more northerly. I do want to visit Iceland one day…

 


 

It’s time for Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where this week we are invited to write using ‘-est’. So, it’s been hot here in the UK, as you can tell!

Please do head on over to Linda’s blog to read and enjoy all the streams…!

Fevered – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - Kattermonran

Copyright – Kattermonran

– Fevered –

I will never reach the end – the heat will sear me like meat on a spit. I imagine my hair crackling and frizzing, my skin crisping.

We are all but flesh.

I pause, blinking against the searing sweat flooding my eyes. The sting takes me back to a buried schoolgirl memory; a cross-country run in freezing January, the finale a lung-bursting incline to the crematorium.  The irony is not lost on me.

I would kill for that biting wind, for breath torn from my chest in frozen gasps, for skin encased with gooseflesh. Now all we have is a furious orange sun, farther away from our planet than ever, yet burning us alive latitude by latitude.

Winter is a myth.

I wipe my eyes against a sweat-soaked shirtsleeve and resume my climb.