Mad dogs and Englishwomen

I am struggling with the heat. Wearing sunblock, wearing mosquito repellent. But frankly not sure what is left on my skin after I have been walking from the hotel to the temple, or from the promenade to the restaurant. I have two hats. A large blue thing which would be shot down by the fashion police. And a small neat straw thing. But sweat is a great leveler. Your hair sticks to your head. Your hat helps not at all. Your face has rivulets of salt that run down from your hairline to your chin. Your trousers cling to your legs even though they are made of the lightest cotton. Your shirt, which should be two sizes larger than your frame, gets damp around your neck and under your arms. You have sprayed your ankles with mosquito repellent. You have also sprayed any areas of your arms that are exposed. You are careful to wash your hands before you touch your face or any food because it lends a chemical overtone to everything. We have dress code instructions every morning. For temples we need to cover our shoulders and our knees. It is called the modesty code. For the sun we need to cover our heads and have our water bottle full and close by. It is the survival code. For rural areas or walks at night we need to to have trousers that cover our ankles. It is called Beat the bloody bugs code. Sometimes we are biking and then we need to wear a hat that shades us from the sun and have to fit the helmet on top of it. Luckily it is so hot I don’t even think how ridiculous I look. When you are dodging the mosquitos and avoiding the sun you don’t look in a mirror. You don’t care. You truly don’t. Then someone takes a photo and sends it to everyone. And I discover I look like a tired convict in polka dots. I have seen photos of fashion shoots on beaches on the Maldives. There are women who flow past me in gauzy fabric that create wind patterns as they move. I have stood next to people who glow and glisten as I scratch and melt. I wish to award myself a medal. For succumbing to the layers of unwanted clothing, the coatings of sunscreen and bug spray. For forging on through as the heat and the mosquitoes win the battle and all grace and beauty passes me by.

Hooray for damp and drizzle . That’s what I say.