Not my idea of thrilling

Not today, not the weather, and certainly not the Argyll Rally - of which more anon. In every respect, today was dreich and I was low. I didn't sleep all that well - I suspect it's a maddening cough which I've started up, which wakens me just enough to feel hot and uncomfortable. Anyway, it was a dull morning so I was in no rush to get up. And thus began a day of which I can remember very little, so tedious was it.

I know I did some singing practice with Himself - still wrestling with the fourths and fifths in Stanford - as well as feeling argumentative about absolutely everything. The coughing got worse - nothing productive, just a maddening tickle that has me at the point of retching every so often - not a good thing for old ladies. I managed to distract myself by reading a very thorough and sober account of the fallout in Palestine from the Balfour Declaration, to say nothing of the machinations around it of the various colonial powers. And I didn't go out at all, except to cut back the rhododendron that's threatening to block our access to our compost bin, and to stand on the front steps trying to take a photo...

A photo of the town stage of the Annual Rally. Madly and maddeningly it comes along our crescent, which during the day was slowly cleared of parked cars. By the time I went out to look and listen there was still no sign of a noisy car, but red and white plastic streamer had been tied across each one of the gates, leaving their owners - us - stranded inside unless we used the back lane access.. A small crowd gathered in the gardens beside the church, but along the road there was only an official car, slowly checking the route, and my next door but one neighbours, in waterproofs, under umbrellas, waiting ...

I went back out after dinner, by which time we could hear the demented roaring in our chimney. I stood in the drizzle under our silver birch tree and watched as a roaring car negotiated the corner on the hill and coming tearing past me on my side of the road. It occurred to me that it'd be comprehensively horrid if it deviated and ploughed into my garden wall ... the gas pipe ...me... And then I went indoors, ensured that the windows were all closed ( it was very smelly when a car passed), and turned the telly up as loud as we could bear.

It's mercifully silent now. Night night!