Stuff

Wednesday, during the hottest part of the day, I heard through the closed curtains (haven't opened them since Sunday) the sound of pneumatic drillery. Out in the middle of the road was one man, his van, and replacements for the barriers demolished during the crash.

Thursday, end of term. Still no rain, and potatoes to plant.

Friday, John Harle on Radio 3 playing Syrinx like it was written for the sax.

Storm Cocks

Jack has been very noisy today, and very insistently demanding attention from the windowsill. Maybe the single clap of thunder is a clue as to the to do. The catz are nutz too.

So where's the [expletive deleted] rain?