MIckey Rourke Meltdown

Well, no, of course not! Can't claim to have tasted major success or hit rockbottom (well, it's all relative, sugar) but it's just that it has been sooooo hot for the past 5 days that every day i feel like a little bit of myself has melted and gone further askew.

41 today in the blinking harbour city.

Mental. Indeed i was.

What was i to do to combat this infernal heat? The boxfan was providing no relief. The swimming didn't really help - the sun's light was still bald, its heat still blistering. And i couldn't send myself off to the cinema two days in a row - too extravagant and totaly unGFC. So i took myself down to Circular Quay to take a round trip on the ferry throughout the inner harbour. A brainwave that had also occurred to a group of twenty Seniors. My first and last matooer thought.

Oh mate. Those seniors were going off. Big time. They weren't wearing red hats but lord ... If they didn't come and sit right next to you, practically atop your lap, they were dancing about comparing scars from open heart and knee replacement surgery, jigging up and down to demonstrate how one leg was shorter than the other. Knees up mother Brown (as interpreted by Herman's Hermits).

Keyed up at the Quay and oh so soigne!

Yes, it was hot, heat happens, man, and yes, it was sticky but lllady do not roll down your singlet just below your breastline and expose your turquoise bra to all , even if it does match your bobbysocks and you are carrying a handbag that features a photo of Audrey Hepburn. No, you cannot, must not and will not. It is completely against the law.