Berry dry

I've been plugging away all day at my upcoming deadline, and it is proving tricky to get through various hoops. By Tuesday evening it'll be over regardless. Hopefully in time to chill out at yoga.

At lunch I talked about gut problems and parasitic infestations with a complete stranger. In the afternoon Steph came over to ask me something and I stuck a nasal decongestant spray up my nose, as if that's normal when in discussion with a colleague. In the evening I sweltered in my flat, which is overly insulated and ill-equipped for temperatures over 15 degrees. As I write this I'm in bed with the covers flung off, as little clothing as possible, and skin glistening with sweat.

To get a break from the laptop I went with Hannah from the office to her allotment and spent an hour picking berries and watering sad-looking plants. The winter veg is not faring well but the berry bushes seemed bountiful. I am finding it hard to understand why there still isn't talk of hosepipe bans in Cambridgeshire. One (unsubstantiated) argument is that the fens and surrounding areas have good groundwater supplies.

Helen and Berry's plot, over the other side of the allotment, has been part of the recent crime wave, with sheds broken into and tools stolen. Hannah's has escaped attention, despite having a snazzy wheelbarrow that was useful for carting water. I'm not sure what the allotment committee has decided to do to resolve the issue. They must still be raking over the details.