Today is as hot as the devil's armpit is purported to be, currently around 40 degrees centigrade. In Penrith it is touching 48, which must be some kind of record. And all across the nation, bush-fires are burning, many uncontrollably. People are starting to connect the dots but human denialism being what is it, perhaps it will turn out to be all too late. But I hope not.

We have put shallow bowls of water out for the birds, though most seem too bothered to make the effort to drink. They are hiding in the shade, though as for that, the wind is like a phalanx of hairdryers set to high, so little respite is to be had anywhere.

I learnt years ago that it was best just to sit with heat, allowing the body to acclimatise. It isn't a pleasant task but, in view of the lack of any air-conditioning in this fibro box, it is the only option. There is a southerly coming through in the late evening, with a precipitous fall in the temperature tomorrow. Phew!

Usually the summer holidays are a time 'unrecommended by event'. Australians go to beach-side camping grounds, the cricket and tennis come on for an eternity, politicians flee the country and a large sleepiness descends. Folks often forget the day of the week, and, freed from work and school routines, even who they are. This year is different - the nation is in the thrawl of fire - and it seems unlikely to go away any time soon. Only days of solid rain can bring that about. They may come, though meanwhile, a nation is fixated on burnt houses, dead animals, evacuations, disruptions and an army of selfless firefighters.

Roll on autumn, please.