Tuesday was the hottest October day in BA history, 34C... 'a little warm' was a good introduction to understatement for my students (they looked at me like I was cracked, warm? It's roasting! Quite warm, I agreed).

There are, though, certain things that my English brain is accustomed to whan experiencing those sort of temperatures that don't seem to be too prevalent here.

Drunks: There are precious few public drunks... they stand out a mile when you see them.

Gangs of red faced drunken lads outside pubs: this lack of public drunkeness extends to all ages. Whereas on a sunny July afternoon you would expect, say, the pubs in Calverley, to have a good crowd the difference here is... there are very few pubs. Most of the pubs that exist are billed as Irish pubs. Bars are, well, bars, you sit at tables, inside or out, there may be a litre of beer on the table between four... on Tuesday the places that were packed were the ice cream parlours.

Mr Whippy: there's an heladeria (ice cream shop) about every third block, or more. No need for greensleeves here.

Off licenses: No need, you can buy beer at the kioskos (hole in the wall corner shops) and, if need be, at the heladeria too. In fact most of the lounging about seems to be in front of the kioskos, where the yoof sip their quilmes and talk football (I haven't seen any Woodpecker cider either).
  ¶ 2:31 PM