It's 28°C in our sitting room at 8pm, and Mrs Davey, having spent the day cooking, knitting, sewing, charging over to the supermarket and back, pole-vaulting, hopping, skipping and jumping and generally tiring everyone out is now strimming the back garden.
I stand in awe. Well I would if it wasn't so hot. I flop in awe. And kind of suspect that it must be linked with the doctor changing her dose of thyroxin.