Incoming ...

Well, that was a bit of a washout, that was - and we're now bracing ourselves for gusts up to 67 on Sunday in this part of the world. I took the photo above just after getting up, thinking I could probably get yesterday's washed towels and bedspread out on the line for a couple of hours on this pleasant morning, but even by the time I'd got downstairs the golden light had gone, the clouds behind the church spire had moved in, and it was raining. So the house it still draped in things I'm not keen to tumble, and it's not been an ecologically sound day as the sound of the drier was heard in the land ...

So. I sat down to do my Italian, then had coffee, then went off to do some shopping to make up for not having done my regular Thursday outing. I decided I couldn't face Morrison's at midday - it gets far too busy - and went instead to the Co-op, where nearly all the shoppers make me feel young (well...) and it feels relatively peaceful. This meant I didn't get half the stuff I would usually have bought, but there are enough veg and so on to see us into next week. 

And that was more or less it. I sat reading for ages after lunch, developing more and more of a headache/eye-ache. I phoned IRH Ophthalmic department and got another appointment with the doctor I saw last week - it's not till next Thursday, so I hope nothing gets any worse. I realised that being in the house reading was possibly the worst thing I could do, despite the fact that by this time it was blowing up a hoolie outside, with great gusts tearing at the garden, and raining with increasing determination. 

And so it was, O Best Beloved, that yours truly, clad in her new waterproof jacket and the old waterproof over trousers that aren't any more, accompanied by Himself in what he discovered today was his old leaking waterproof, marched up the hill through the thrashing trees and through rivers of water and leaf-blocked drains to the church to rehearse a piece we'll need in a few weeks, just because it gave some point to the walk. 

And then we came home for dinner. 

I've already stacked the two smaller garden chairs in a corner instead of leaving them on the patio; the glass-topped table will have to take its chances with the gales because there's nowhere to put it. I'll prune the longer bits of the roses tomorrow. 

I can't be bothered with winter yet ...