Hot stuff

Can you imagine what it's like to do a session of kung fu in humidity, when the air is heavy, the wind is absent and the sun is burning through the haze? It's tough. You drip with sweat. Your hair sticks to your head. Your skin is wet and warm.

There were quite a few of us at class despite the sauna-esque heat. We flocked to the door during our two-minute break and breathed in the slightly cooler air. But we had all forgotten to ask instructor N whether we could leave the main room (which we need to do so he can keep track of us for health and safety reasons; someone might drop dead and he wouldn't know, he said). So, he told us off and made us do 50 press ups. I won't forget again. Some people looked cool – I was convinced I looked like a roast chicken, oily and brown. My friend, V, told me off for worrying that my upper arms looked like a scrotum (but some friendly teasing did ensue).

I wished the storm that was brewing would arrive during the class, and bring with it a breeze and the smell of earth in summer rain, which has got to be one of the best aromas on the planet. The sky cracked beautifully at about 10.30pm and the rain fell hard at about midnight. I found it difficult to sleep but the panic that used to occupy my mind this time last year under similar circumstances didn't even peep at me. I gave into it. What else could you do on a hot, stormy night? Wasn't insomnia a given? The fan was too noisy so I switched it off, and my throat was dry. I let my mind wander, a bicycle of thoughts gathering speed down a mental hill. Eventually, probably at about 2am, I fell asleep.

Had a horrible dream though – I was being sick, something red, like chilli, was coming out of my mouth. I woke with heartburn. No great message in that one then...