Perhaps we should have been grateful that the temperatures seem to be on the wane, but in our books wane or not, “thirty-nine degrees” does not spell “relief”.
We wondered for a time if being reminded once again of man’s inhumanity to man, would be too big a price to pay for a few hours in air-conditioned comfort but as the temperature was already well into the mid thirties by nine, we decided it was not. Therefore we spent the entire morning of Ian and Cheryl’s last day with us cosseted in the depths of Meaux’ justifiably famous and climatically controlled war museum.
In the early afternoon as the others were no doubt luxuriating in the comfort of their air conditioned bus, we were discovering just how pleasant it could be carrying a load of cool wet sheets from the washing machine to the line, even if that pleasure could not be sustained as they were bone dry by the time the last peg went on.
Thus it was that anything that could be washed, was washed and anything that could be dried was dried, and not for the first time this week we ran out of ice cubes.
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