Grumble, grumble. Back to what passes for normal, except – for the moment – it is NOT raining. Really. The garden is so wet that your squish, squish, squish as you walk on ‘grass’, and P has nearly surfed from one garden to another on mud. Joy, oh joy.
However, gardening is taking place. This sort of gardening:
Though in deference to convention, P is not wearing yellow tights and white socks, and the apple trees are considerably larger (though they do have carefully cleared circles of earth around them, or as I like to call these things, ponds). It’s pruning time.
It is emphatically not
digging time, as that will only annoy the Weather Gods even more, and anyway I have enough standing water as it is.
Of course, what we really need is one of these:
especially as this rather splendid portrayal of a viking longship can take a house on its deck, allowing me to move somewhere with LESS RAIN.
In the meanwhile this is me,
doing my tax return. Joy, oh ******* joy. And the last of the Christmas cake got eaten yesterday. 2016 just keeps on getting better.
(Seriously – all the best. It cannot, CANNOT, carry on like this!)