It is tipping down. All productivity has been halted pending an improvement in the precipitation levels.
Keith and I started early, as Edna the Morgan was scheduled for a service first thing and I had to drive Keith back from the garage. Sadly, the heavens opened just as we set off. I scooted off in the mini happy as a sand girl, expecting Keith to appear in the rear mirror before too long. I was down at the garage well before he appeared. Turns out Keith had managed to get the roof on the old dear in a bit of a shonky job (one pin out of 4) but the side windows refused to play ball. Well, there was a queue before Edna’s slot and there was nowhere to leave her undercover. The dips in the road were also starting to fill up threateningly on the way down and would doubtless have reached paddling pool depth by lunchtime and flotation tank by the evening. After much garage mouth consultation we drew stumps and drove both cars back with the service deferred for better weather.
The rot then set in. Lyra took one look at the rain and hid in her dog bed to avoid a walk. I settled down for a brief knit and another free audio book pending a break in the weather. By 1 pm Lyra had moved as far as the window seat and commenced Squirrel Watch, the bank robbers in my book were on the cusp of getting away with the loot and the back of Keith’s “Regency Blade” cardigan Mark II (Mark I was a bit Baron Von Trapp which, though in its self highly satisfactory, was not giving Keith the full “Buckle My Squash” vibe he was looking for) had made it to a length which might do nicely for Colin Firth in high heels. I foresee very toasty knees…….
Feeling guilty, I coaxed Lyra out after lunch. She stood on the drive and looked into the field dubiously. After a brief run in circles on the back lawn looking for a squirrel she bolted back in the back door and resumed Squirrel Watch in comfort. Clearly she has the bladder control of a hen (an animal legendary in the distaff side of my family for iron urinary discipline. As they grew up on farms I have taken this on trust thus far).
I returned to the knitting and made the back just a bit longer until it was clear that the robbers had indeed got away with it. This was highly satisfactory. I celebrated with a diet raspberry cream horn. (Keith felt we should cut back on doughnuts and this is the compromise. )
There are a great many half finished projects in my Garrett and I briefly toyed with getting off the sofa to tackle one of these but discovered that my enthusiasm for crossing the patio in the rain was about the same as Lyra’s for a walk. Ultimately I plumped for the classic lazy girl kitchen achievement and decided to make soup. A quick duck out to the shed for onions and a rummage through the fridge provided the contents. Choppity chop to the strains of 80s pop and Roberto is indeed the brother of your esteemed mother. The pan is now hottering away on the Aga and I can tick one item off this morning’s list.
Keith has gone to light the fire having completed his urgent darts practice. (In the interests of inclusiveness there is scope for an Age Appropriate Modern Pentathlon involving (i) Sudoku (ii) Lawn Mower Dressage (iii) Darts (iv) Snooker and (v) the Yard of Ale. ) I am charging up the headphones and have started on a sleeve. As is traditional, I am off piste pattern wise and am mixing my own wool from different cones. The fronts and fancy bits therefore have to be left to the end as their style will be highly dependent on how much of the dark wool I have left after the back and sleeves. At the current burn rate we could well be looking at cutaway and contrasting panels. It will all be fine. What can possibly go wrong??
There was a brief (but not brief enough) interlude just now when Lyra showed interest in going out. Once past the threshold she promptly lay down in her favourite sunbathing spot to enjoy the murky dusk and siling rain. A tour of all trees which might be harbouring squirrels followed and, once I was thoroughly doused, she strolled back in. My mother’s reputation as a comparative species urologist is now under serious threat.
Dark and rainy skies are rather unphotogenic. Accordingly, here are some more cheering shots from Sunday, when the weather could hardly have been more different. Lyra and I had a glorious walk around the fields in the morning, the cows were basking in the sun and In the afternoon Mum and I strolled along the mill lade in Selkirk to envy George’s Dahlias.
Keith promises tropical weather for the rest of the week.