Several times yesterday the rain stopped and, for a while, the layers of mist and cloud became slightly less monochrome as the sun began to burn through. And then, as if losing a battle against the gloom, all became grey again and the hills hunkered down under their cloak of Welsh weather.
A general break-through is being spoken of, for the coming weekend, and that may be so. Rather too far away, seems to me, for comfortable certainty.
When Graham is home, we rather revel in the rain and mist. It makes us feel safe and cushioned against the harshness of the world. Not that our world is particularly harsh but the principle is sound.
Today, more gloom, and even more rain. Dolly got up with me at about 06:00, came down, yowled to be let out, stepped over the threshold and cursed loudly all the way down to the front gate, where she sat, glumpy and immovable, glaring out as if daring anyone or anything to give her an excuse for violence. Then, a gust of wind and a small squall of rain, and she transformed into a poor little pussy cat once more and shot back through the door in a blur of grey hair and outrage.
She shook herself, humphed loudly at my efforts and sympathy, rejected all offers of food and drink, and stomped upstairs to flop on the bed. She was not pleased with the world today, not at all. The outrage didn’t last too long though and a little while later when I peeked into the back bedroom she was curled up tight, ignoring us all.
It was the day for the annual road-worthiness test for my little silver Ford so I was off out at 08:10 to be there well in time for our 08:30 appointment. The guy drove me home to wait in comfort and I was just about to shove my breakfast plate in the washer when they rang to tell me the test was done, all was well, the car had passed with flying colours, and would I like the guy to come and pick me up again.
So, that’s the car’s MOT sorted, and new certificate is attached to the documents and all will be quiet on that subject until the annual road licence is renewed at the end of the month.
I popped over from the garage to the close-by Tesco’s supermarket at Neath Abbey, being in need of bread and fancying something fresh and nice for my lunch. I picked up a pack of bubble-and-squeak and a couple of slices of ham. That’ll do me nicely, and may mean I’ll not be wanting dinner this evening. Or much of a dinner, anyway.
Back, through the floods in Cadoxton, up the hill and along the valley to our safe little house under the pines. It’s been raining here, too, but the water has all run off in the direction of the sea. Leastways, I hope it’s finding its way to the sea without bothering anyone in between. Much as I value our dry location, I’d not want to think that we have it at other folk’s expense.
And so, another day passes. Dolly has had a very late breakfast, more of an early lunch, really, and I am about to start on my lunch, which is so late as to be more of a high tea. One day we’ll be back on a sensible routine, Dolly and I, but I rather suspect it’ll not happen until the establishment is complete once more.
