Laziness, creativity and a "showpark"

How I love these kinds of Sundays.  The flat I love all to myself.  Books and magazines and online newspapers to read.  

A big empty bed to lounge on.  My laptop playing Ab Fab episodes.  Chilled water with lemon.  My leather bound journal and lots of post-its.  Bliss.

Add to that the thought that it is 29 degrees C here and yet in London it's cold, cloudy and rainy (as usual) and I just know I don't want to be anywhere else.  Nor do I ever want to move back to London.  Who would?  It's vibrant, yes, but expensive, takes ages and ages to travel across and it's almost always cloudy and damp.   I am so glad I don't live there anymore!  

My creativity is faltering, however, in this stifling heat, as my flat is somehow built to keep the heat in and opening the windows makes no difference.  I can barely think at this temperature.  And this being a former communist country, no-one believes in the super-flash expense of air conditioning.  Except in restaurants aimed at tourists, where they frequently get it a bit wrong, or at least, not quite right, by writing, 'air-condition' on the windows.  

I think that if they aren't going to go for air-conditioning as standard in flats here, then we should all be allowed to have a siesta between 14.00 and 16.00 because it's just too hot to get any work done.  Quite frankly, in this flat, between 15.00 and 18.00 is the hottest time, as that's when I have to put the blinds down because the sun comes pouring in and sends the temperature up by another couple of degrees.  

And there's something a little disconcerting about someone putting their blinds down in the middle of the afternoon.  Or there would be in England.  Except, now that the hotel opposite me has become a brothel known as "Showpark", I don't think anyone's going to give a damn.  Which is more likely to raise eyebrows, closed blinds on my side of the street at 4pm or red lights lining the windows opposite me at 7pm?  I suppose you can always rely on the sex trade in a recession, right?  One major financial crisis and the hotels shut down, bookshops become banks and sex shops and brothels make a killing.  Why is that?  

I suppose if I really wanted an answer, I'd be sure to find an economist across the road, taking a break from predicting a further downward financial trend in order to gaze at a future Czech porn star.