Remember that old WWII black-and-white drama, Ice Cold in Alex, starring the great Alec Guinness clawing his way through the North African desert, dreaming of an ice-cold beer in Alexandria? What a film!
Not so long ago necessary journeys from my high-altitude residence to the sizzling, humid coast filled me with dread and, like Guinness, I would long to climb that mountain track back to the cool heights of the New England – and a long, cold drink of aqua pura at the end of the day. Alas, all good things (apparently) come to an end, and recent temperatures on the top of my mountain have exceeded those of the Northern Rivers region. This situation has been a constant for some three weeks now and there is no promise of change any time soon.
All this, of course, fills me with dread. What if these mega heat-wave conditions remain? Some people, me included, simply weren’t built for this. Worse, it’s affecting my ability to think! The brain refuses to function; my imagination has fled, along with my ability to write. Like Alec Guinness, my only thought is Ice Cold, Ice Cold… i.c.e. c.o.l.d…