Baked Potato

I fully intend to do as close to nothing as I can possibly get away with all tonight and tomorrow. But instead of it being because I’m dreadfully depressed it’s because leaving the target zone of my fan at the moment leaves me burning up.

It would probably be more impressive to lie and tell you that I am heroically fighting a fever, or I’ve abandoned England for unbearable climates. But neither tale would have much truth to it. It was my father’s 60th birthday on Friday and by coincidence an event he was interested in going to was happening about a two hour drive away from my flat on the Saturday after. So instead of me pleading with my boss to give me time off work to go home and celebrate with him, I pleaded with my boss for time off so I could stay put but be awake during the day.

The event in question was not really my cup of tea, my dad loves model aeroplanes and he wanted to go to a remote control festival of sorts… but I like to think of myself as a pretty decent child and I know he’s got no friends to go with him. So early Saturday morning (about an hour after I would normally be getting into bed) I hopped up out of bed and we made our way along the motorway.

This is not a treacherous adventure. Or at least it should not have been. The trouble is, I’m not used to normal person hours. I don’t often see the hours between about 07:00 and 15:00 so it’s surprisingly easy for me to forget how impressively strong the sun is. The fact I live in England helps with that little bit of poor memory. So when I got up I threw on some jeans a t-shirt and a hoody. Sorted right?

So, so wrong… I would wager that Saturday was the hottest day of the year so far in England. It was about 32 degrees Celsius, I had at least dumped my hoody in the car but I was still stuck wearing jeans and with no sun screen… I’m not quite the same colour anymore. Any amount of warmth starts the sun burn off with it’s painful burning sensation again, so I’m stuck in front of a fan, wishing I had more ice lollies in my freezer.

And here I shall probably sit until I have to go to work on Tuesday night. I am a baked potato. The good news is for the past week or so I have been putting ‘good’ on my mood tracker, that’s got to be a sign of departure from the depressive funk I’ve been in for so long.

S. Hansen

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