I am writing this with all the windows open and a fan pointed directly at my face, so if this reads a little scattered, that is why. Britain does not do heat well. We complain about the rain for eleven months of the year and then the sun properly shows up and everyone just melts on the pavement like we have never seen it before. Me included. The Run I Should Not Have Done I will start with the mistake, because it is the funniest bit. Last week I went out for my usual afternoon loop without really thinking about it. Same time I always go, same route, same everything. Except it was properly hot by then, and about ten minutes in I realised I had made a genuine error. I was red in the face, my legs felt like they belonged to someone else, and Toby, bless him, kept stopping in every scrap of shade he could find and looking at me like I had personally let him down. He was right to look at me...

