Heat

The English weren't made to live in hot climates. Each day this week has been around the 37 degree mark and I think I might actually be dying.

But I'm a survivor. I believe my record's pretty clear on that. And I have been finding new and ingenious ways of getting as much wind to my sweaty nether regions as poss. My favourite is walking down the road with legs a metre and a half apart and bent at the knee. Sure, you look like a pervy frog man, but betty swallocks are not a laughing matter, so I'm happy to take one for the team.

Last night I enjoyed a brilliant pool party at this huge house. Lots of acres, a trampoline, hot tub, couple of dogs, lots of burgers. A classic summer evening.

Today I went into Vancouver and met up with a friend from England who is over here on a holiday too. We were classically English in our crossing of the roads throughout the city, believing that vehicles stop for us, not the other way round.

I've got a couple of days left before heading back to England on Friday. Paul's birthday tomorrow...yippee...