. . . . is how Chris and I are feeling – got very stupid colds. Which is annoying after a lovely party last night, with roaring outside fires, so fierce that they split the thing the fire was burning in, guitar playing, singing, Thai food, cocktails and a grand plan for next June.
. . . is what the weather continues to do to everything. It is raining AGAIN as I write this. I don’t understand why the trees and the grass aren’t gradually fading to white as surely the colour must be leeching from them with every raindrop. . . oh I know that’s not how it all works. It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me. But there’s something counter-intuitive that the greens get more strident the wetter it is.
. . . is what the blood on the carpet isn’t doing. Yes, the blood on the carpet. From the rabbit which the cats brought in and disembowelled. And danced around. Then ate. The stain just glowers at us, resistant to any approach to persuade it to disappear.
Will the Olympics just happen with or without this rain?
What do you know about terriers?
And what’s the most interesting fact you know about the Romans? Wet days call for strange family entertainment.