#454 theoldmortuary ponders

I’m not sure if I often consider temperature as a texture but yesterday my lunchtime walk was filled with unexpected sensations. A high tide had brought up a huge bank of seaweed, which was both crunchy underfoot and softly yielding like a marshmallow. The temperature was hovering at 0 and the sun was starting it’s sharp descent towards the horizon. Both dogs were thrilled. Hugo loves nothing more than scavenging seaweed. Adding his small efforts to a massive pile kept him busy for an hour while Lola and I basked in the sunshine. I was wrapped up very snugly and Lola was as close to me as a barnacle on a boats bottom. Soon enough the ratio of sunshine and temperature made sitting still a bad idea. We had been in a golden triangle,moving took us into the territory of icy blasts whipping fluffy ears back and making me hugely grateful for a felted wool hat

The dogs took the best possible position on returning home.

Just filling in time until the next outdoor adventure.

#310 theoldmortuary ponders

Four hours early for an appointment! What to do? Returning home in rush hour traffic, of a sort, did not seem particularly exciting. So I figured out four hours of activities to the east of the city. In no particular order of dullness I went to a rarely visited supermarket and bought a new frying pan. Necessary because our old one had sprung a leak. Creating puddles of Rape Seed oil wherever it rested its bottom. Never having had a leak occur in a frying pan we had blamed Rape Seed incontinence on many other factors before noticing a steady drip of oil spluttering into the open flame of the gas hob.

The dogs then got two decent length walks, one on the coast path and one up a valley before they gratefully fell asleep in the car while I read a print edition newspaper and snacked on supermarket pastry. The hours had passed and I handed over some, still tired, hairy hounds to their canine beauticians. Freeing me up for some sea swimming and book reading under lumpen grey skies and no expectation of heat. Typical English Summer recalibrated from the Sunny Summer Sumptuousness of the past month or so. Four hours early for an appointment, no problem. British Summer Time has finally arrived, the rain chased me off the beach. Like any good English person I sat resolutely as the pages of my book darkened with blobs of rain, playing an internal game of brinkmanship, not wanting to be the first person to run to the comfort of a warm dry car. Not wanting,either, to be a drippy wet mess unable to balance on plastic flipflops made slippy by rainfall in a way they never do with saltwater.

Four hours early for an appointment and British Summertime has finally arrived.

#95 theoldmortuary ponders

Misty nights have so much more charm than misty mornings, currently. There is a cloak of greige over everything this morning. It started to creep in last night making our evening walk softer and more mysterious.

At the book club meeting yesterday a friend said she felt suffocated by the current weather. This morning it is easy to sympathise with that statement. January really is a hard month to love.

There was a break in the greige yesterday. I am ashamed to say I missed it, a fellow ‘bobber’ grabbed this photograph yesterday morning at Trematon.

©Angela Bobber

That really is a beautiful ‘break in the clouds’ I will keep my wyes open for something similar today, but I’m not holding my breath!

Pandemic Pondering #130

Pondering on a Sunday is not always relaxing. This picture was taken when the day was very fresh. Ripe you might say , but as I write this the rain splatters regularly on the roof and the day is blowing out grey and grumpy. I never quite know how I feel about summer rain especially on a day that showed such early promise.Today I’m pondering the ineffectual way the English language has for describing the actual lived experience of summer rain. On the whole it has whimsicle or romantic descriptives.Soft, Shower, Precipitation.For a start there is the disappointment that it’s happening at all, no summer activity ever was enhanced by rain and yet there is no negative word for its arrival or its effect on life.Storms, Gales, Tempests, Hurricanes are all words for rainy weather in the three other seasons. But they don’t work in the summer. Squalls sort of fit the summer rain brief but there is no energy in that word to reflect my anymosity to the wet stuff in summer.It’s a limp word that gets no sympathy.” How was the summer fete?”” A complete wash out, there were squally showers”There is no dynamism in that statement.” How was the summer fete?”” A complete wash out, there was a tempest!”So much more impactful but who would ever say that.So there we are a blog without end. A feeling of frustration that no English word quite sums up the annoyance of summer rain.