My mother always told me that I was born during a heat wave. I checked the historical records of May 1962, and sure enough, a few days after I was born, temperatures soared to 34 degrees Celsius. I can only imagine the discomfort of my nursing mother, in a tiny apartment, with a new tiny baby, with only maybe a fan, and definitely no air conditioning back in those days. But I have always thought that explains why I love the heat. I love the warmth on my skin, and don't even mind the humidity. I thrive in the heat, adore the sunshine that accompanies it, and of course, everything to do with spring and summer. The plants and flowers, long days and short nights, the birds and bees and even the insects. Love the sandals, shorts and t-shirts; heading out the door without having to don hat, coat, boots and mitts. But now the entire world seems to be heating up, warming to such a degree that people are dying. I do recall Nostradamus made a prediction back...
Featuring observations and humour that I find in the world around me. I have always loved creative writing and journalling. Those combined passions led to a 20+ year career in broadcast journalism. I now love to write for the fun of it - combining creative writing and journalling.