Kishore Singh: Summer resolutions

This summer, I promised myself I would not be harangued into going to work, but would find a cool place to crawl to with a bottle of some barley water (and yeast - you get the point?) to disappear till the promised La Niña rains come pouring down our heads. But, as my wife reminds me, resolutions are meant to be broken. Still these are the 10 things I'd promised to treat myself to once the heat set in. So far, I haven't made much headway, but then the summer's just begun.

One: To lie, like the pet, flat on my stomach on the marble floor during the day with the curtains drawn, a tub of snack food by my side and a trough of sangria to sink into for an occasional, deep swig. If the dog will let me. The last time I tried, he - um - peed all over me.

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Two: Cleo bathed in ass' milk but I'm more amenable to beer poured over ice in the bathtub into which I'd like to immerse myself. If it's a good hair conditioner, beer's probably good for the skin too, or if you managed a few accidental swallows… But my son's got dibs on the idea, since the bathtub's ensconced in his en suite.

Three: To remove the racks from the large fridge and lodge myself in with a couple of thrillers. (Actually, I've already tried this, but the light switches automatically go off when you shut the fridge door. Plus, I think I scared the cook into resigning when she opened the fridge door and found what she thought was the master's naked, dead body.)

Four: To take an old-fashioned summer holiday by switching off the computer, mobile phone and iPod. (Unfortunately, my wife has threatened to also switch off the fridge and TV, putting a new spin to the phrase "old-fashioned".)

Five: To lock myself into a room with all the supplies a man could possibly want. I decided on premixed Bloody Marys, cheese, mangoes - all the stuff that's really smelly and makes the air so fetid, you need to unbolt the door and flee, or get someone to clean the mess - but the maid refused, and I had to do it all by myself, thereby curing me of the need for clinic isolation for all time.

Six: To write the Great Indian Novel. But I think I'll wait till it's cooler, or winter, or next year, or when I'm retired, what's the hurry?

Seven: To pretend that the heat is merely mind over matter and get to renovating the house. Thankfully, that didn't last beyond taking the pictures down from the walls. Which is where they're staying till I work up the energy to put them back in the same, exact spot some time next month.

Eight: To travel to cooler climes. With all the hot air likely to be generated there by the neighbours, our friends, my colleagues, and our extended family, I think not.

Nine: To detox. No more alcohol, or fried stuff, or cold coffee (or hot), no snacking. With lots of long walks, yoga, calisthenics and exercising. But, of course, I'm hallucinating. Why else would I think up such an idiotic thing?

Ten: To learn to play the drums. I've been looking for a music teacher, but it seems they have their summer resolutions too, and neither mad dogs nor native Englishmen will draw them out of their hibernation, leaving my talents unattended - and unexplored.