Shutting the oven door.

In many reaches of the world (certainly where I hail from - Australia) most people live for summer and give winter the (ahem) cold shoulder it deserves... What's not to love about summer: the lingering light in the evenings, the giant heater in the sky warming your back, and weekends teetering between the brunch cafe and the beach.

As a self-proclaimed summer junkie, when I arrived in Hong Kong in 2009, I smugly declared, "I love the heat! I laugh in the face of humidity. No such thing as too hot. Tra la la."

Oh, except look over there! There is such thing as too stinking hot, and it's called Hong Kong.

How can I say this like a lady... Hong Kong is bloody friggin' hot in summer. And this past one whipped me incessantly with its fiery tongue. I was sentenced to wearing the same three singlet-tops each day because any form of sleeve was just too much padding - I mean, can you imagine the fashion TRAGEDY??? Rest assured, I merely jest.

But last night the fever finally broke... B took the dogs outside for a walk and returned with his excited face on... "It's really not that hot out there" he announced, with the same nervous twinge of 'potential good things' as if he'd been nominated for an award.

The corner has finally been turned. Summer? Meh. Autumn? Well come right on in, you good thing you.