Killer Heat

Life in London is incredibly challenging these days for people who aspire to get dissertations written. The temperature crept up to a viscious 38 last week, which felt like a whole lot more. What is worse, our friendly, little flat has been turned into an oven.

On the worst days, there is only one option after 2 o'clock in the afternoon: evacuate to an air-conditioned building. Option 1: The hotel bar on the corner. Option 2: A friend's office. This week, during heatwave number two, I tested a third option, my school, with catastrophic results. SOAS has no air con, of course, and horror: A class of beginner world music students were practising the flute in a room dangerously close to the library. I tried not to think about it, but my head wanted to explode with the dual impact of disharmonious flutes and killer temperature. So I left, steaming in more than one way, and desperate did not fully capture my condition.

And hurrah: A third record temperature heatwave is reported to be on its way.



Paradoxically, this was also the week I decided to get myself a winter coat - a woolen one too! It was sold to me by an old granny dealing in dusty clothes in our garbage alley. These street hawkers tend to pop up in the filthy side streets on Saturdays and Sundays, selling ugly but random and funky things. The price was ridiculous: £1,50, or 17 kroner - how wonderfully bizarre! So I had to.