I’m 51, been driving this damn bus for twenty-odd years, and suddenly my internal thermostat has gone completely kaput. It started a few months back, just a flicker, a bit of warmth in the neck. Now? Now it’s like someone shoved me into a pizza oven while I’m trying to keep 40 passengers from screaming at each other. The air con on the old Leylands is more of a suggestion than a function anyway, so I’m just sat there, sweat pooling under my uniform shirt, trying to pretend I’m not melting. It’s particularly delightful when I’m stuck in rush hour traffic, exhaust fumes baking the streets, and some teenager decides to complain about how *warm* it is back there. I just wanna turn around and tell them to try driving this metal box when your face feels like it’s spontaneously combusting. My wife, bless her cotton socks, thinks it’s "the change." Says I should talk to a doctor, get some pills. Pills for what? To make me less sweaty? I don’t even like taking paracetamol unless I’m genuinely dying. Besides, doctors cost money, and time off means less pay. Every penny is accounted for these days, especially with Jenny’s college fees looming like some dark, financial storm cloud. So I just… deal. I keep a spare shirt in my bag, even though changing out of a sweat-soaked uniform in the depot bathroom feels like something out of a bad comedy. I joke about it with the blokes, say I’m just feeling the heat of my own inner fire, ha ha. They just nod, probably thinking I’m losing my marbles. Honestly, it’s not even the physical discomfort that’s the worst part. It’s the sheer absurdity of it all. Fifty-one, been doing the same thing since before some of these kids were born, and now my body decides to stage a coup. It feels like a cosmic joke, a bit of extra seasoning on an already bland plate of life. You spend your whole life busting your arse, making sure everyone else is okay, and then your own damn biology decides to betray you. I just want to drive my route, get home, and not feel like I’ve just run a marathon in a sauna. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes.