Sunday, 18 August 2013


Yesterday was a forlorn sort of day. Grey and overcast with heavy spells of rain. The cats sat on the back doorstep staring out at the deluge, wanting to go out but preferring to stay dry. I don't like warm, wet and grey days like these, as if the weather is unable to make up its mind whether it is summer, autumn or winter. 

Luckily, because I do not own a snorkel and flippers, the rain did not arrive until after Bracken and I had been for a walk, and although there was a fair amount of huffing and puffing from her for the rest of the day, she had a good run in the morning so had nothing to complain about.

I spent the day pottering around the house, tripping over various furry things, who decided to sleep in the silliest places.

The nights are drawing in and the football season has started, which means that winter is just over the horizon. With luck we will get an Indian Summer, so postponing the inevitable woolly jumper season. I am just not ready for the cold. It makes me want to hibernate, and while there is any vestige of warmth in the air the back door will stay open, and I will sit outside with my coffee enjoying the dying of the summer.



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