That subject title is, “I Hate Heat And Humidity”. Why on earth would anyone voluntarily live in a place where one feels hot, sticky and uncomfortable all the time?

….where one cannot take public transport or even a lift for fear of severe assault of body odour from one’s fellow passengers?

….where one’s clothes would stick to the neighbour, and pick up all manner of dirt….where one’s hair falls on one’s damp forehead, or on the nape of one’s neck, in a twist of a greasy curl, with a droplet of sweat dancing delicately at its tip>

..where one’s scalp feels sandy and icky and stinks unless one washes it every day, and even then?

…..where one’s makeup comes off in oily streaks, and one’s nose shines like the lighthouse on the Marina?

….where one cannot be well-dressed, because cottons wilt and hang in sodden folds, and silks and heavier materials tend to stick in awful discomfort to one’s body, and have to be peeled off?

….where walking makes one feel as if one is moving through molasses, and half an hour of walking is enough to dissolve one into an enervated puddle of perspiration?

….where drinking “cooldrings” to assuage the assault of heat and humidity means adding more adipose tissue on one’s body, leading to more sweat?

…where the ceiling fan, and the continuance of electric power, are the only things uppermost on one’s mind through the day?

…. where the coolness and comfort that the air-conditioner brings only contrasts further the oily heat outside… and thought of any outdoor activity is as repugnant as working in a furnace?

Did you get a slight hint of the fact that I might not be too enamoured of heat and humidity? If so, my prose has been successful.

IHHAH.