Phew, what a scorcher

This past week has been so warm that I've been forced to walk my dog early in the morning - between 6am and 7am - because any other time would just be unfair and possibly cruel. I'm writing this at 7pm in the evening just after the peak temperature of 39.4c was reached here. I understand that it hit 40.3c - a new record - at Heathrow. Certainly, the mayor of London, Sadiq Khan, said that the fire service hadn't worked so hard in a single day since the days of the Blitz. 

It was already 20c at 6am when I ventured out with Harris so I took water with me. Normally at that time I'd have the fields and meadows to myself but most local dog owners - the considerate ones at least - had had the same idea as me and there were lots of dogs about. That said, it's still lovely and quiet at that time except for the grasshoppers and crickets who start fizzing and chirruping the minute the sun rises over the treetops and warms the tinder-dry grasses.

The temperatures soon started to climb so we stuck to as many bosky woodland paths as we could and got home before things got too uncomfortable.

The rest of the day was spent in front of a big fan with a tall cold drink and homemade ice cream.

So the day wasn't a total write-off.