Today has reached a ridiculous 41 deg Celsius (105.8 deg Farenheit apparently) and it isn't going to be any cooler than that for the next four days. I've spent the day migrating from one establishment with air conditioning to another, focusing on those that can let me watch the Australian Tennis Open at the same time. What is it with long sporting events that makes me not want to miss a second? Ninety minutes of a soccer game fails to keep my interest, but just watch me get into a five day cricket test match. Breaking for afternon tea beats any Beckham footwork any day.
Now luckily I have the use of a car with air conditioning as well. Although it is pretty old and not really that cold, it does manage to drop the internal car temperature from The Surface Temperature of The Sun to Oh My God, My Eyeballs Just Melted.
But it works in an utterly stupid way. As far as I can tell, car designers have determined that the best place to install air vents is right where the hands of the driver are on the steering wheel. This means that with the air-con blasting my hands are suffering frostbite while my face is dropping off in a manner not dissimliar to the climax scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
I've given it some thought and decided that the air vents need to be moved. One should be in the center of the steering wheel to ensure a cooling breeze on the face at all times, while a second should come in from under the steering wheel to hit at about chest height. At least ten more should be placed around the car so that people in the back seat don't have to wait half an hour until the second-hand cool air traverses to the back of the car.
Of course, none of these brilliant ideas are going to help me in the next four days, but I'd just like it to be known that I'm available to consult with any car companies interested in my amazing ideas. Assuming, of course, that I haven't totally liquified in the meantime.