Wet, wet, wet

This morning when I tried to access the BBC local weather page on the internet, I got an error message. Would that it had been true, and the error had been that this relentless rain and chill was in fact a mistake, and sunshine was on the way.

Perhaps the BBC weather page, knowing how very foul today was going to be, just didn’t have the heart to provide a forecast?

On days like this, everything takes longer, everything is filthier and I found myself just wanting to stop and cry because it was so unpleasant, despite being surrounded by the lovely neds.

Home now, my soaking wet gear (waterproof trousers, and two waterproof coats, switched when the first one became saturated) are drying in the front hall, dreary puddles forming beneath them as they drip. The whole house probably smells of wet horse – I wouldn’t notice if it did though, so I am unconcerned.

A hot bath, a warming bowl of soup, but no, I can’t shake off the chill! And poor Max has to venture out there again in a couple of hours, to stand in his soggy field with his raincoat on. He won’t mind it nearly as much as I did, though. Plenty of grass to eat and in fact, now that my yard work is done, it looks like the sky has finally rained itself out.