Roots Manuva’s vocal contribution lends The Cinematic Orchestra’s otherwise jazzy “All Things To All Men” a rapping influence… “Look at the monster you make. Look at the monster you pay. But you claim no responsibility, ’cause it’s each to his self in these times that we live…”

It was 5:30 pm. The sun was setting and the air that flowed through the windows had not been cool for some time. Thermodynamics states that warm air molecules will dissipate evenly into cold air. I placed my hand against the so called breeze entering my room from the outside. It felt warm to the touch and irritable to my other 4 senses. Now either the laws of physics were breaking down at my windowsill or it was possible that the temperature in my room had reached an equilibrium with the temperature outside. Either phenomenon couldn’t have been good news. I wiped the bead of sweat from my brow, cutting short its laborious journey to trace a line down my cheek. Phrases like “This country is going to hell” surely could have been born on a day like today. I think this every year, but this year it certainly feels like it’s the hottest year to date. I mean, it must have hit ~100 degrees Fahrenheit (~36 degrees Celcius) today! What this usually means is that any available stretch of sand resembling a beach in the UK has been mobbed by motley crews of sun-deprived islanders. Being more susceptible to heat, compared with the average person, I was not having a splendid day. It would be fare to say that I hate it when it’s this hot.

I love how the hot weather brings out the best in Londoners but I hate how amongst other things it brings out the damp patches that will inevitably appear around your pits and other erogenous (and/or erroneous) zones. The problem with London becoming global warming’s bitch is that none of its denizens were prepared for this. I heard on the radio this morning that companies in the sweltering centre of the city are now campaigning to try to get the office attire standards changed for the summer and too right they should too! May Jack Frost be kind enough to bless any boy or girl suited and booted today. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned in a 3 piece suit.

I also found out about a new trial for introducing air conditioning on the buses. Currently it’s still under trial and the air conditioning installed on the trial bus is going well. Can you believe that? Just one trial bus? This is insane, I have no idea who the brains behind the operation is, but presumably the trial is going to go extremely well with the sudden onslaught from the heatwave lately. You’re going to get pedestrians jumping on a bus and while chilled out, totally forget why the heck they wanted to go to Wembley anyway. What a tease this will be if they don’t start implementing air conditioning on all buses (especially those on major routes). Why not just go ahead and install it in all the buses? People are turning into California style raisins here! Today I saw a man walk into a woman’s clothes store just to savour the air con. At least, I think that’s why he went in there. The only excuse I would allow from Mr London Transport would be “We’re allocating funds elsewhere for introducing air conditioning to the London Underground.” Now that would have been a better trial; to have air con on trains. The Underground is like Satan’s cruel love child during these ultra, ultra-violet times and I’m glad I’ve not had to take the train into London yet. There is probably no feeling ickier than sharing a commuter packed train carriage with a whole bunch of stale air. That is, unless you find your Heaven in claustrophobia and unwashed flesh.

It always feels great when you kick an old bad habit. I managed to both pick up and kick an old habit within the space of last week. A lot of people who love their REM (Note: not the rock band) would disagree with me when I proclaim that the old-boy’s routine of napping is a bad habit (The hardened drill instructor inside of me wants to shout, “Napping is for babies! You’re not a baby, are you?“). Although physically I feel probably better than I’ve ever felt, for a short time I fell into the nasty trap of catching a quick nap after returning home from work. It felt almost like the life force had been sucked out of me whilst sitting at my desk at work, leaving only enough ichor for me to make it home and to my bed. Is work really that boring or am I just getting too old for it cool for it? Napping is considered a bad habit for me because it’s usually hard to break out of once I get used to it. And once I start, it has the tendency of trying to repeat itself over and over like a vicious hula hoop. My body would want another fix the next day and because it’s probably 100 times more addictive than nicotine, I’ll more than likely oblige. It’s badness factor is emphasised when you start thinking about how much of your life you spend sleeping and realise you’re unconscious for roughly a third of it.

Let’s break it down by the day for an average person. You sleep an average of 8 hours a day, meaning that you’re conscious for about 16 hours each (24 hour) day. If you’re in a fulltime 9-5 job you’d spend 8 of those hours (which includes lunch-time) at work, leaving 8 hours in the day. The average person takes about an hour to get to work, so that’s around 2 hours of travel, leaving 6 hours. But, you also have to get ready for work in the morning so have to wake up around an hour prior to leaving the house. This leaves 5 hours in the day. You spend on average 30 minutes in the bathroom each day and this leaves 4 hours 30 minutes. You spend about 45 minutes to make and eat dinner so that leaves 3 hours 45 minutes. So, you have to look forward to just 3 hours 45 minutes of personal time doing whatever you want, for 5 days a week. That’s 3 hours 45 minutes out of your 16 waking hours, 5 days a week! I am not too far off at the moment from the above calculations, but I’m able to steal a few minutes here and there on days that I do have to go into work because I move like the wind through my bathroom in the morning and move like fork lightning behind the wheel of my car. All in all, we really do live to work. That can’t really be changed, but at least we can try to embellish those 3 hours and 45 minutes, enjoying ourselves, all the while convincing ourselves that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Have I mentioned how hot it is? It’s true, and it’s kind of hard to ignore even whilst strolling around the house wearing only shorts. It’s days like these when I wish that the ice cream was not all the way over there in the supermarket freezer, but instead right here in my mouth. It also makes me want to stay indoors in the shade for most of the morning and early afternoon till the whole heat thing blows over. So typical for the weather to get like this too, because I had decided last week that I was going to start up jogging again. In light of recent metereological changes, it’s been relegated to the “no can do” list. I’m not prepared to die to get into shape. It kind of defeats the purpose of exercise, right? So, my lack of exercise coupled with my heightened affinity for ice cream is certainly not making things look promising for the battle against the bulge. The heat did however have the power to force me outdoors yesterday, but only to go sit in the shade of the hair salon to get my long locks trimmed down to a summer mode. I like long hair but it’s just too much trouble thanks to my disc shaped follicles, which regenerates thick wavy hair (ultra wavy when long). The humidity of recent days would probably make me go bald quicker if I didn’t do something about cooling my head down. This was a good move.