Hot nights and early mornings and whatever the opposite of blues are...

That's orange on my quilter's colour wheel, but it doesn't describe my mood, so I don't think it'll catch on, do you? Excuse the ramblings because there is something about hot nights by Dorset standards. Yes, I know it was only 19c, outside and 26c inside at midnight last night, but this time last week it was 9c and now here is summer, and in the daytime the temperatures are ten degrees higher too. If it had crept up, I’d have been prepared, but wham, there it was…

Anyway, being a sensible person, I got up early, aired the house, got the washing out and did the ironing in the cool dawn, so I’m now feeling very virtuous. I also started racing the microwave timer while I was ironing, so I can tell you that it literally only takes me a minute to iron a pillowcase. That's just as well, because husband and son both have extreme hay fever (really they do, it’s not man flu), so a clean pillowcase each night when the pollen’s high makes a small but noticeable difference. I do lots of small things, and it does work. Anyway, I like the feeling of a crisp cotton pillowcase against my cheek on a hot sticky night.So I embroidered loads with shells and monograms over the winter. Now I have a satisfying wicker basket full of steam-ironed ones that are gently scented with home-grown lemon verbena, and let me say bah humbug to the pollen. I also iron the sheets a couple of times while they’re on the bed and change them twice a week, and that’s lovely too.

So here I am at six o’clock in the morning, with two loads of washing out, the whites and the darks, and the darks include 5 pairs of what I’d call good jeans from Marks and Spencers and Cotton Traders. I picked them up brand new as a bundle on eBay and they’re the right size and length for me. Including post and packing they worked out at under £4-00 a pair so I can scramble over rocks, garden and paddle and have cats on my lap without worrying about wrecking them,

But why 5 pairs, I wonder? Was it a diet that didn’t work? A promise that someone would need them that didn’t come true? I’ll never know, but it’ll pop up in a story somewhere someday. Meanwhile, I’m feeling smug as I get down to work. Pasta salad made to go with cold meat and salad and quiche for lunch. Porridge for breakfast because we all love it and it’s good for us. Washing out, with plans for another load to join it once the rest of the family are up because they can be so unreasonable about being woken at half past five and asked for their pyjamas and nighties.

In a minute, I’ll get back to Windy Bay, where I’m working on the first draft of the final book of next year’s series of three and thoroughly enjoying my very cross heroine journalist answering some common beauty questions. After all, admit it, you’re worried about whether your beach towel is chic, aren’t you? No? Me neither and I’ve been collecting plenty more like that courtesy of newspapers and magazines. New characters are demanding that I tell their stories, so what nicer place to spend a hot day than in a pretty garden with ice cream and cold drinks close at hand. Ah yes, a writer's life is hard…

And here is my work area early on midsummer morning. My beloved husband claims he needs a machete to go through it and is expecting to find an undiscovered species in the undergrowth any time now. I’m just thinking about improving air quality one plant at a time, and it’s only the cats who pounce out on me so I’m safe enough.

See you on Tuesday, by which time the weather is set to drop back to a temperature that I’m happier with and then normal service will be resumed. Till then, I shall slow down and enjoy life and only do what’s absolutely necessary. Oh, and I shall wash anything I can get in my clutches, so there’ll be clean curtains and voiles and mattress protectors. Hey, maybe I’m a good housewife after all? Who knew? Have fun in YOUR way till we meet again.