I’m likely preaching to the converted here, but “ignore the BBC Weather reports – they’re complete rubbish”. Last weekend was supposed to be clear skies and over 40 degrees. It was cloudy and around 33. This weekend is supposed to be sunny spells around thunderstorms for 4 days. It’s over 40 degrees and there hasn’t been a cloud sighted in 72 hours. I think they’re scared of getting sunburn.

Today was footie day and I was on the losing side, though I’d like to protest to FIFA regarding the tactic of having the referee play for one of the sides. I have a feeling my pleas to Mr Blatter will fall on deaf ears as I’m not suggesting hotpants for female footballers – a matter much closer to his heart (and other organs).

In fairness the aforementioned referee, Tho, paid for my lunch and also took me to a nearby swimming pool. In exchange for re-teaching me how to swim, I taught him and Tung how to dive. As I said, though, it was blazing hot and by the time we left I could almost feel my skin starting to blister. I definitely burned my feet on the tiles. Without flipflops it was impossible to walk more than maybe five metres without smoke starting to pour from between my toes.

The pool was very nice. Naturally heated by the sunlight with a large shallow area for kids attached to a separate 25m rectangular area for the older folk. The two were joined by a small channel with a bridge over it. I laughed at the Vietnamese who spent most of their time hiding under the bridge. And was paid back for my laughter with a nasty dose of sunburn. Ouch.

I spent the afternoon recovering, smearing aftersun into myself, reading and watching Slayer DVDs on the balcony bar. Sat in the shade this time, of course.