It would be a hot day were it not for the nor-easter that whips across the water, ruffles the #Sawtell playing fields and shoots down the Sixteenth Ave wind tunnel to my house. Which, given the way our little boxes made of ticky-tacky are packed with no thought to favourable aspect (plenty of doors and windows, just none that catch the breeze; sun-struck exterior walls upon which you could slap a bit of dough and bake naan bread, etc.), means it _is_ a hot day indoors, so I'm out on the back patio. It's rather romantic, being buffeted about; like I've lashed myself and my laptop to the mast, and by God, by the time we round the Cape of Good Hope I'll have caught up on my #reading.