Singed in the morning

so hot, that the air burns in the shade
so hot, that hot water comes out of the cold tap
so hot that cold showers aren't enough, blankets are unneccessary and the air vibrates with some secret shimmer. I'm in love with it.

I managed to get nicely sunburned on Sunday when we went to Rotto. I forget, and am awed, again and again by the power of the sun.

Yesterday I converted B and P's lounge into a bedroom of sorts, making the fireplace my wardrobe and going through all the boxes I had left behind. To see the old books again, the old photos, bits and pieces that I'd written.

Gareth left a lot behind, as if he was trying to shed all remnants of the australian year when he departed. Odd to remember those days, in the cramped little house in Hampton road. B and I watched a few old party videos, when we were all pissed and happy, and Gareth played for the camera. There were happy days, I mustn't erase that.

Pete asked me yesterday if I was happy. And without hesitation I said yes. He did somewhat of a double take, as if this was not what he was expecting, but under that steaming car port roof, having just come back from a run I felt that nothing was missing from my life. Of course if Balint was here, everything would be perfect. But it all is pretty perfect anyway because in all ways but one, he is here. All the time.

The run - phew, in the last bit (going up hill, very clever) I had to employ all sorts of self-encouragement, but it worked. I've got a plan to work up to 10k's in 12 weeks. Memories of cross country at GGS...

And now, Weber, in an almost broken morning, with birds outside the window...and it's going to be 42 today.