Pipe down

It seems that the rain knows when the good folks of the Borders want to march about in their finery, and promptly arrives to soak them. Every Borders town I've lived in seems to suffer from this - unless it turns out I am a Rain God, like in "The Hitch-hiker's Guide to The Galaxy"...

Since the last post and this one, the object of my affections called and we seemed to have managed to extinguish the flames on the tarmac and pulled something from the wreckage, so maybe there's still hope. Me and my big mouth.