Turning up the Heat

Draw the blinds

brain and body wilting

block the sun

It's days like these that send me back to my eight year sojourn in Queensland, peeling off the layers until the only one left to get rid of is your skin. I'm sitting here in my son's study underneath a skylight in their townhouse in Sydney's western suburban sprawl, thinking there is probably not a scrap of insulation in the roof anywhere. It's 34 degrees and not even lunchtime yet, and I'm finding it hard to get my head around the fact that when I land back in Launceston tomorrow afternoon it's only going to be 15.

I've been comparing the temperature between here and the city all week, a distance of only forty kilometres, but it can be as much as eight degrees hotter out here at any given time. The mountains further west trap the hot air, preventing it from moving on, so it sits here, like some fetid little creature, immovable, annoying, waiting to wreak its havoc on all and sundry.

Living in Queensland brought a clear understanding of the term Going Troppo, for in extreme heat you simply cannot function properly, no matter how diligent your work ethic. The brain reaches a certain point where the simplest tasks seem insurmountable, and if you lack the necessary home convenience of air conditioning, the only way you can get relief is to head for the nearest shopping centre.

There are times in Tassie when we complain about our lacklustre summers and wish some heat would make its way down from the Big Island, but when you're sitting in the middle of it, my response is a decided 'Nup' for I know what I prefer. The fact that it's still only Spring doesn't hold any bearing here, but they can have it. So, I will endure this final twenty four hours, knowing that I at least have an evening out tonight to distract me from the trickling sweat, and prepare for the rude shock I know is coming when I step on to the tarmac back home.