Crazy May

What a crazy day this became - at least as far as the weather was concerned! Having assuaged my self-pity by reading all your kind comments on yesterday's post, I resolved to do something about the waterproof I was wearing when I rolled in the mud, and spent the morning carefully washing and reproofing it. There was actually mud on the collar - as well as the blood I had felt trickling ... I hung it out triumphantly in full sun, glad to be able to let it drip in the garden, and went off to do some Italian before lunch. And then the hail came on ...

We went a walk later. I can't bear to sit around languishing - in either the old meaning of the word or its new use to describe what afflicts us post-lockdown - but I was pretty keen not to meet anyone. I look quite scary today; the tendency of grazes to look worse as the scabbing firms up is particularly noticeable on the nose, to say nothing of the strange line of purple under my lower lip, as if I'd decided to draw on my face with an old-fashioned indelible pencil. I took this photo of Arran as we started our walk along the shore road to the south; I love the way the snow outlines all my favourite mountains even as I bewail the return of winter. We were caught in a dramatic hailstorm; I got hailstones down my neck because I didn't have the usual waterproof on; the tarmac steamed in the hot sun even as the hailstones bounced noisily on the road.

Himself is cooking dinner tonight. A brandade is something I've not had for over a year. And there's some white wine ...