Poor Dolly. Each time she’s opened her eyes and stomped downstairs, asking to be let out, she’s been met at the open door by torrential rain. There’s been a lot of rain here this past fortnight.
It’s getting to the point where, when there’s a break in the downpour, I go up to wake her and see if she fancies a bit of air. Sometimes she does. More often, she opens an eye, yawns widely, and snuggles up tight as tight, determined to ignore the world until it gets its ideas sorted out to her satisfaction.
I’m rather stuck at home with it, too. There’s no fun tromping around in the rain. My shoes, while pretty good for most purposes, are no protection at all when the surface water is a couple of centimeters in depth, at least. And, I’ve no idea how I’ve managed it, but I seem to have lost my big red waterproof anorak, leaving me with a skimpy green thing that’s altogether too tight for me. Graham will be pleased about the big red anorak–he’s been nagging me for ages to replace it.
It can’t go on raining like this, can it? Not for too much longer, surely?
