Apple blossom in the rain.

A good image for a British spring bank holiday,

We mythologise about the weather in Britain, particularly on days when we are not working, which we generally portray as poor. A bank holiday is usually a dank holiday. Today was actually better than expected, with the heavy rain appearing only late evening, by which time we had managed to get out for a walk and meet The Dizzle in a local pub garden at lunchtime. It was bloody unpleasant but we were outside, which was a success by any account. I drank coffee and whisky to combat the cold but avoided being tempted by the young man’s chips. Booze is much less fattening than fried potato.

I was tired after yesterday’s 20,000 steps around London, and also because I stayed up until 2am watching movies and thus didn’t get enough sleep. Ryzard the builder came and finished plastering our bathroom walls, which took him about three hours. We had vegan green shakshouka for lunch courtesy of TSM, which was very nice. So good in fact that I had to mop up the gravy with a slice of bread, in true proletarian style. 

TSM was anxious about her left hand which had mysteriously developed markings like small crop circles in the palm, and which she decided meant she was destined for alien abduction. Or possibly takeover as in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. But come evening she was still with us. Maybe the aliens didn’t fancy fighting through the rain.

We bought more paint for the bathroom, having had a crisis of confidence in the last lot. Still remains to be seen whether we’ve got it right. We also bought a baby tree which leapt out in front of TSM in Homebase, desperate to find a new home. Nothing so endearing as a bright green conifer that throws itself on your mercy. 

The highlight of our day was sorting socks, only partially successfully. That’s what you call a wet bank holiday activity…