I've just returned from my three supermarket trip in pouring rain and fog so everything's normal.
Blackie's found a new way to torture me; not content with soaking me each time I go out Bron and I couldn't understand what the drumming noise was coming from up the garden thinking it something to do with the neighbours; no it was Blackie giving the trees a good soaking; in turn the trees were dropping water onto the cold frame I built last year; the stretched polythene top cover to the coldframe is now a drum; thanks for this Blackie (NOT).
I'm heading into the workshop for an enjoyable day woodturning; Blackie and his chums snowy and Gale can do their worst I don't care any longer.
I've just had a brew and biscuit so I'm ready for anything including another wetting as I head down to the workshop; I'll get wet again at 10:30 when I come up into the bungalow to collect a mug of tea and wet again as I return to the workshop; wet again when I come up for dinner; wet again when I return to the workshop after dinner; wet again at 2:30 when I come up to collect another mug of tea and wet again when I return to the workshop with it and of course I might even get wet again when I come up calling it a day; it just goes on and on; I tried using an umbrella but it's a nuisance; if Bron and I moved into the middle of a desert it would rain.
At least, we had a beautiful day yesterday here! It's snowing feathers now. I wonder how many slugs and snails are being spawn this spring.
I wish I could borrow Charles Windsor's slug picking staff - "Other revelations in the book include his hiring of workers to handpick slugs from leaves of plants at his gardens in Highgrove".
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