told you so

Anniemay looks at my blip; “this is going to be about me and the weather forecast isn’t it.”  It would be churlish to deny it.  

Yesterday, to celebrate the arrival of warm weather, we performed the annual ritual of putting up the garden umbrella and the tying on of the garden chair cushion covers.

As we’re about to go up to bed I mention that the weather forecast shows rain in the early morning.  “Mine shows clear skies.”

Anniemay has a happy forecast app on her phone. She consults it daily and it always seems to show good weather.  Mine (the BBC website) is always gloomy - as if it’s forecasting its own demise as a once proud and respected broadcasting institution.

“Shall we take the cushions in and put the cover on the umbrella?”  I’m surprised at my own domesticity.

“No, it’ll be fine”, she says, showing me her app - this time on her iPad, where the large graphic of sunny skies would convince even the most doubting of skeptics.

When I come down first thing and look out of the kitchen window, I resolve, as I blip the sodden cushions, not to say ‘I told you so’.  I have no need to say anything to score a cheap point - blip does that for me.