Struck by the sun

You’d think that I’d know better: Growing up in Australia, in the heat of the Western suburbs of Sydney, you’d think I’d realise how the sun can affect your head. But, it seems, I’ve forgotten.

Of course, I wore a hat for my walk into Farnham. I wore a hat to the station with Mirinda (who went in at lunchtime for a talk she had to give). I even wore a hat in the park when I took the poodles to the castle and back.

I think the main problem was working in the garden. That’s when I didn’t wear a hat; as if the sun wouldn’t have any effect in the safety of the back garden. Stupid, Gaz!

And so, I spent a lot of the afternoon feeling queasy and lying on the lounge, curtains drawn, windows open in the relative coolness of the living room. I also had an awful headache.

A few gallons of cold water and rest over a few hours saw me almost back to rights but I did feel a bit stupid. I can hear my mother, now: “You’re an idiot, Gary Charles!”

Most of the morning was spent in my office (I am so glad it has windows) booking Bob’s accommodation for his forthcoming visit. At the other end of the day, almost like the other bookend holding up the sun drenched limits, I booked our week in a river side cottage in Cornwall…which was originally going to be in the New Forest.

While the weather continues glorious, I shall continue wearing my straw hat…