Zanthor

The heat is unbearable. Not a particularly exciting string of words and certainly not anywhere close to being original. Other words that have floated to the top of my mental list on writing this include scorching, furnace, boiling and shittingly warm. However, since these words seem to have lost all meaning in this bone piercingly meaty heat I will make one up... ‘zanthor’ (a complex mixture of all of the above rolled in pita bread, shoved in a toaster and roasted on Satan’s barbeque grill). So, it is quite zanthor today. Much more zanthor than I counted on, admittedly. I’d read about the heat in Thailand at this time of year but shrugged it off as being ‘nothing compared to the Maltese heat’ and ‘ha, the English think thats hot’. I was wrong. Woody Allen and Sun Yi wrong. The queen on a seatless unicycle wrong. In fact I was ‘goreslap’ (a mixture of the two... well you get the picture).

So, it’s hot, we covered that. There must be more to say on the subject of Thailand so far... No. There isn’t. For the time being it’s just hot. Far too hot to think, to read, to type or to balance a rapidly warming laptop on ones thighs. It is too zanthorous to do anything but roll around and groan looking for the cool side of the bed, which ironically happens to be the one I’ve been laying on, as my body has defended IT from the zanthor. Don’t get me goreslap, the evenings are quite pleasant, but until then adieu.