iberian summer

After returning home from work drenched and shivering from a typical London downpour I am going to take a moment to recall my recent sojourn to Spain/Portugal with Matt, in particular the oppressively stifling heat.

In my mind the blinding white beach of Ilha Tavira in Portugal meant hiding underneath stolen beach umbrellas making sure every toe was covered by shade, drinking beer quickly so it didn't go warm, freckles multiplying exponentially, Matt playing frisbee against the wind, never too many juicy peaches, ice cream for lunch and dinner and the smell of BBQ all day long.

Sevilla was even hotter than Portugal with the thermometer at the train station reading 42 degrees when we arrived at 11pm. It was so hot the plastic lilies on the balcony of our hostel were dying, the restaurants served red wine chilled and one euro bottles of lemon sangria actually tasted good.

Someone at work said it is going to snow tonight in London after hours of heavy rain, adding wryly that the weather won't improve until May. Lovely.