I don't really know what he does on a hot trip. But he does it in the desert. Luckily this time it is the South Australian desert rather than Dubai and he will be home next weekend. I mean luckily for me not him - he was quite happy to fly to Dubai last year and stay in a hotel made from gold where women aren't allowed to speak their mind. I much prefer the thought of him in the 70's (and not in a cool "lets play homage way ironic" way but in a 'it hasn't been updated since we did it the first time' way) splendour of the Desert Cave Motor Inn. He is in a dug out (ie underground room) which means he is cool but living with artificial light constantly and looking at dirt walls which are the colour of raw sausage meat. Oh, and he doesn't have any internet or mobile phone access, which is also lucky for me as he can't read my disparaging version of his most important work.
Meanwhile down here at a much more humane latitude it is hot and we started the day with a 7am beach walk at 13th Beach. It was stunning. By 9 when we came home it was already 32 degrees and as I write this at midday the estimated high of 33 has been passed and it is 36. We are now bunkered down in air conditioned comfort and the kids have a pop up beach shelter tent thingy in the middle of the lounge room. Later we will head to the beach again, this time for a proper swim. Tonight I have promised the kids they can sleep in the tent.
It used to be that when Michael went away for work I was envious of his business class flights, room service and general good luck at escaping the children for a couple of weeks at a time. Strangely the shoe is now on the other foot. His company's tendency to throw money around to enhance the calibre of his work trips has declined in direct proportion to our kids now being kind of easy to hang around with. Single motherhood seems easier every time I have to do it. We still miss him though.