Rain? What rain?

A bright, breezy warm day. So warm, in fact, that I had to go back into the house three times to change before we set off. We were going to take Archie to play with his new giant frisbee, but it looked like it was going to rain. There were huge black clouds over the city, but it was still bright to the south. So we got in the car and headed there, up Blackford Hill. But the black clouds followed us.

As we walked up the hill, it began to drizzle. There was no point in all three of us getting wet, so I suggested to JR that perhaps one of us should just pop back to the car. She swiftly agreed and skipped off, so Archie and I trudged on up the hill in the rain.

Actually, it wasn’t too bad. He had a good run around because I’d brought his ball. But the clouds were getting blacker. As we came back to the car park we passed a chap dressed just in a jumper (with trousers as well, of course, but he didn’t have a raincoat on). He had a big Weimaraner and they were heading up the hill, so I offered the observation that he was bound to get rather wet. He thought hoped that it would pass over quickly.

And indeed it eventually did, and it was a nice evening, as the weather app predicted.

I suggested to JR that it was a good afternoon to, say, bake a cake, but she thought it was good afternoon to hoover. So she did.

Then we watched another episode of Outlander. Every now and again we snort with derision at the silliness of it all, but it's sort of addictive. It's set in the 18th century, and we're intrigued to see that the main actress, while living in draughty old castles, muddy thatched huts, camping a lot, and even being thrown into a dungeon (as a witch) - remains fresh as a daisy, not a hair out of place, and with nice, clean, rather glamorous outfits. Oh, I know it's not real...