Rain

Gosh, it's difficult doing the simplest things with a sore hand. Washing and blow-drying my hair, changing a hose from one rain butt to another to let the water drain into the pond, emptying the dishwasher for goodness sake. And pain makes you tired too. I had to miss yoga this morning because, as someone pointed out, there's not a lot you can do that doesn't involve hands, so Hugo and I have had a few extra walks. Not the long one as I'm sure the country park will be sodden and muddy, and you definitely can't bathe a heavy whippet with one hand. Instead we walked to the end of the village to get some eggs, when the heavens opened and we got drowned. One of us was wearing a mac, but the other dripped water all the way home. When I got him in and rubbed him dry with a voluminous towel he looked bigger, fatter, and his coat was soft and fluffy. With good grace he licked his paws clean too, and then he did what he does best and slept.

Everything is looking very green, and that includes the weeds, but I'm trying to ignore them. I bought a ladybird poppy at the plant sale in April, and it's come out a very dark, very beautiful red with black markings on it. Why did I expect it to be orange? It makes all the other red things look almost insipid. The pond is now full again, and I'm glad I resisted the temptation to top it up from the tap which only causes blanketweed. Not that there isn't any, but not much. Finally I spent around half an hour trying to find a way of taking GCSE Italian, because nothing spurs me on like a test. Competitive? Moi? I didn't see anything that didn't cost hundreds of ££££ and involve attending tutorials in Cambridge. I'm not that desperate. We're not having our usual conversation group this week as I'm at the Aldeburgh Festival a lot and Ruth is minding the dog. C'e sempre la prossima settimana. C'e sempre domani.