Hasn't there been an awful lot of talk in the past decade about global warming? (We'll leave out the cab driver who recently used the topic of global warming to expound on the petrol conspiracies designed entirely, as far as I could work out, to drive him out of business. There are rivers of the stuff, he tells me, flowing open over the ground over in the middle east. The flash point of petrol notwithstanding, obviously. I very tactfully didn't point that out — less out of politeness than weariness. It was too early in the morning to be listening to these rants, let alone encouraging them.)
So, yes, global warming. Where is it, again? Because I am freezing.
I live on the Australian coast. Not the southern coasts which huddle in the breath of antarctic winds half the year round, no, I live on the warm sunny coasts famed for lazing around and developing first-rate skin cancers. I should not need more than three layers of clothing at any time of day or night in order to keep the blood from freezing in my veins.
That is all.