It's really hot, and I'm sitting in the office waiting for something to 'happen' before I can carry on with what I'm supposed to be doing. It's far too hot inside to be working and I wish that this morning when the obese bus conductor said 'All change please' at Piccadilly Circus that instead of getting on another clapped out Routemaster I'd nipped into Marks and Spencer, bought a bottle of wine and headed for Green Park.
I'm all for hot weather in moderation, but my wardrobe simply doesn't have the functionality to carry off prolonged heatwaves. It's amazing how style gets abandoned by many people when the first rays of summer peep through. All of a sudden, it's fine (for some) to wear that T short they got free with whatever the hell it was and dig out those delightful orange, linen drawstrings. I agonise over what to wear when the weather is hot. I can't abide being overheated and although it's said that the sunshine puts people in a good mood, I reckon it just makes everyone crankier.
At Victoria this morning, I was in WHSmith buying a bottle of water when a woman started screaming at the guy serving her because he hadn't placed her change in her hand in a manner in which she thought was acceptable. She shrieked at how rude he was, bemoaning at how 'young people' had no idea how to behave. She was about 35. She even took his name. The guy didn't know how to react, so just watched her kick off until she ran out of steam and stormed out of the shop. There had been quite a long queue and it was hot so I'm guessing that's the real thing that tipped her over the edge. No doubt she'll be in a stinker of a mood all day and will regale her work colleagues with tales of the rude teenager who served her today. Some people need to shout at shop assistants to feel good about themselves. Shame.