Axis of weevil

R has finally discovered some puns with which he can reliably get me laughing - let's see how long he can keep coming up with them, shall we?

This morning we drove to Cheltenham through a monsoon, listening to yesterday's The Rest is Politics emergency podcast. They'll probably need to do another one before the end of the weekend. We squelched around the town, decried the state of John Lewis, drank some coffee, and ate some cake; then I went shopping for walking shoes (successful) and a mirrorless camera (unsuccessful), while R wandered round to the Wilson art gallery. We rendezvoused over more coffee, then scuttled back out into the monsoon, and home.

This afternoon I stood in the kitchen watching the rain through the window until it stopped, then waded across the lawn to refill the bird feeders, before fetching the camera and starting to look for a subject. I should have tackled those tasks the other way round: by the time I reached the wild garden the heavens had opened again. I was sheltering (inadequately) under one of the hazel trees when I spotted a few weevils clinging to the undersides of the leaves, and took this half-blinded by rain and with water sluicing down the back of my neck. I'd moved under a maple when I noticed the extraordinary beast in the extras, which is some kind of non-biting midge - I've included him because I thought you might like his ludicrously extravagant antennae, which look to me like tiny feather dusters.

Anyway, I'm pleased to have found some decent walking shoes - if the Tory Party really is mad enough to re-inflict Boris Johnson on the nation, I expect to be going on some marches this winter.

And - breathe...