Hot, hot, hot

Heat is over-rated.
Really.
I know that the UK seems to be enduring an intermindable winter, but the summers here in Mozambique are truly awful. Hot, sweaty, cloying. And seemingly endless.
Its not the burning heat of the Middle East, which dries you to a husk the minute you step out, but a heavy, humid, suffocating heat. The air hangs close to you and breathing in is like sucking in steam. In short - horrid.
No clothes are cool enough and my sample of UK workwear has fared rather miserably. Nothing like 100% polyester to send rivers of sweat streaming from every frantic pore. Oh yes, nothing like Eu de Sweat on a hot day...(now, just for fun, add that image to any given amount of bodies in the room. Hmmm)
Of course we have aircon. And what a blessing it is! Especially when it works. The problem is this: Maputo and power-outages are rather good friends. Not quite as good friends as my sister tells me Johannesburg is, but fairly well aquainted. No power, no aircon.
In our lovely company owned complex, we have a very loud generator which has rescued us a multitude of times. However, it seems that a rather important transformer blew up some time late last week, plunging Maputo into a total power-free zone. Our poor old genny has been running 24 hours a day and has, I think literally, blown a gasket. We now sit on a knife's edge, hoping state power remains restored until our faithful back-up is fixed. So far, so good.
Think I'll go to bed while there is still some hope of staying cool....