Warm June has nose-dived into better-take-a-jacket July. In Addingley Memorial Hall the pensioners’ group keep their fleeces on. When I get into pose I am still steaming from cycling. They are impressed with my fitness. They make remarks about my being youthful.
I do not cool off. My cycling sweat dries but I go on producing heat. The small of my back prickles with new perspiration. I wonder at what age hot flushes start.
In the break I produce my novel and wave it about. They say things like, Ey up – you’ll be t’ next JK Rowling – and hand me my cup of tea.
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