It's Only a Cactus

We awoke this morning to the kind of kill-me-now Saturday that we haven't had for quite a while. I had been led by the forecast to expect at the very least, a frosty day with perhaps snow, but what we got was a gloomy, wet, soggy morning with rain and a hopeless sky suspended at tree top level.

The plans we had last night fell apart at the seams, neither of us could face a bus journey through the more depressing parts of the city to reach our goal. Instead we took ourselves all of 100 yards to the café with a fire lit in the pizza oven. It was cheering to watch the flames and feel the warmth while His Lordship scoffed toast made by their heat.

You will notice that I did not have any toast, far less a scone, and heaven forbid that I should have consumed a cinnamon bun. No I nursed my coffee and ate a really tiny oat biscuit, yes, really tiny, nursing my virtuosity. It is a perverse fact that if one is on a self imposed restriction of calories, it is somehow self congratulatory in a strange way to see someone else overindulging.
While I waited for HL to finish, I found this cactus a fascinating blip model.

I am trying to persuade myself, now that the rain has stopped, to do a power walk lap of the saturated Meadows. I will ask His Lordship if he want to accompany me, but there is the distraction for him of rugby on the television.