So far, the voice shows no sign of returning, but it has only been two days. The longest I've been without a voice was I think nine days. Or maybe it was 11. It was a while ago and my memory is as hazy as my voice is unreliable.
Those who know me in real life, and know how much I love to talk, usually take no little pleasure in my periodic bouts of voicelessness. K and S are no exception, and over cream teas by the river this morning, as we attempted not to fry in the harsh sun, they cruelly discussed how much they love Michael Crichton, knowing full well that I was unable to fully expound on the million and one reasons why Crichton is one of the worst writers ever to walk the earth.
Meanies.
Anyway, hottest day ever in the UK today as we reached over 38C/100F. And boy, did it feel like it! Thankfully my train back to Reading was air conditioned and really rather cool. Nice. Out my window, though, I can see thunderclouds in the distance. Sadly, they’re not coming this way, although I quite fancy a storm to clear the air. Maybe tonight or tomorrow, if I’m lucky.
Meantime, I’d best shift my arse and get working on that there script. The script fairies won’t come and do it for me…
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