I was unimpressed by Storm Florid.
Having listened, wide-eyed, to all of the Government’s weather warnings, I was entirely disappointed to discover that the promised Amber Warning Stay Indoors Danger To Life cataclysm turned out to be a mildly wet and windy day.
All trains were cancelled, much to the disappointment of the taxi drivers who make a living hoovering up their disgorged passengers, as if things weren’t difficult enough. The trains don’t leak, one driver said, grumpily.
We had even been advised, by our protectively thoughtful leaders, not to leave our doors open, although I think if I had been them I would have concluded that anybody stupid enough to leave their door open during a Danger To Life hurricane might be better being quietly removed from the gene pool.
In the event there was no hurricane, just a damp-ish start to a fairly windy day, magnificent for drying the Clean Sheets, although less magnificent for the survival of clothes pegs, and so when the sun came out this afternoon I opened the door anyway, in quiet defiance of the Government.
They can send their new Thought Police to come and get me if they like, if I am not here tomorrow you will know I have been transported off to the Ministry of Love.
I put my raincoat on to go for our fell walk, because I had stupidly listened to their advice and decided that even though there was no hurricane they might at least be right about the all-day torrential rain, but they weren’t, and I took it off again after fifteen minutes, which was a nuisance because I had to carry it for the rest of the way after that.
It had rained overnight, though, and the ground was squelchy. I was pleased about this, because of the recently constructed moss archways in the front garden. They are not yet properly bedded in and so possibly for the first time in my life I have been looking at the skies and anxiously hoping for rain. We must have had a decent deluge overnight, because this morning they were looking splendid. The drooping ferns had revived, and the moss was a staunchly vivid shade of green. I have planted wisteria underneath them, and it was flapping a bit but clinging on, it is going to look amazing when it gets going.
In fact it was a squally, moderately warm sort of walk, with gusts of wind changing the skies from patchily sunny to grey and mildly ominous, and everybody else must have believed the weather forecast, because I didn’t see another soul, which always suits me.
When I got home I thought I might do something constructive, which is never a good idea. Some weeks ago we purchased one of those rather splendid little machines which pump nice-smelling steam into your house. You add oil and water and plug it in and it makes your conservatory smell of oranges, or roses, or peculiar modern scents that you like even though you haven’t got the first idea what they are, like Oud.
Being terminally clumsy I knocked it over in the first week and it broke. Mark glued it back together and the following week I knocked it over again. He has not had time to piece it back together since then so this afternoon I thought I might have a go.
At least it was following the Government advice to Stay Indoors Danger To Life Amber Warning.
Readers, I would not have imagined that it was possible to get so much Araldite on a person. Within about five minutes I looked like somebody who had upset the village, a couple of minutes before they got to the bit where they added the feathers.
I didn’t not even finish it, having concluded that I should get the biggest pieces stuck back in first and then add the smaller ones when I had a stable structure.
I didn’t conclude that until I had tried to glue little pieces into an ever-shifting, stuck-to-my-fingers piece of earthenware. The whole lot wagged about and slid around until the glue set and I was obliged to look mournfully at a peculiarly-shaped, miniature chimney, set about with jagged holes, and wondered where I had been when the Gods were handing out manual dexterity.
When I had cleaned up the glue I did not want to bring the washing in, because of my fingers sticking to everything, but I had to in the end anyway.
I tried to clean it off with white spirit and brake cleaner, but have reluctantly accepted that I am going to have to wait until I grow some new skin.
I have got to glue the rest tomorrow.
I am going to wear gloves.
