But it’s barely rained all day. How did that happen?

 

Furthermore there have been actual sunlight sightings.*

It’s fabulously past mmph o’clock even by my standards . . . or, no, I’m never asleep by a mere mmph o’clock but I’ve posted by now . . . and I’m only just sitting down to my computer rather the worse for wear in the aftermath of a substantial amount of champagne.  Mmmmmm.  But I do not repine.  I do not, either, write a full, not to say fulsome, proper blog post.  There are limits.

B_twin is here—and I might have called her Bertwine or Caronwen but SHE HAS PROMISED AT LEAST ONE GUEST POST out of this trip to England and I figure if I [user-] NAME HER she will have NOWHERE TO HIDE.  She was originally going to be here several days and we were going to scramble about the countryside having various adventures** but circumstances intervened, including Peter’s stroke and my ME.  So we had to pack a lot into today because she’s off again tomorrow, and we did, joined by Ajlr and Southdowner, braving the mud slides, the potholes and the unscheduled fords to stroll, somewhat squishily, around the kind of large old-fashioned National Trust garden with good bones so it even looks ravishing this time of year***, and cream tea after in the café, which reminded me of being a tourist in this country.  B_twin and I then went to the abbey for evening prayer, where B_twin attempted to have us ejected by throwing the furniture around, but my monks are very forbearing and I’m sure they merely put her down for extra prayers since she’s obviously in need of having extra prayers said on her behalf. † Home again there was a (noisy) assault on all fronts by my generous selection of hellcritters, and some hurtling was accomplished, and then us two humans, somewhat hairier than we’d been an hour previously, repaired to a local pub to join the others for champagne—oh, and dinner—and additional stimulus was provided by admiring, if admiring is the right word, the interesting paint work in Ajlr’s bedroom, which appears to be a reject movie set for the Pit and the Pendulum.  I considered offering her a blanket by the Aga at the cottage, but she’s British—she’d be too polite to accept.

Speaking of blankets, I really really really need to go to bed.††

* * *

* And the hellhounds ate all three meals today without fuss.  B_twin . . . don’t go home . . . stay here . . . please

** I was looking forward to the excuse to book tickets to the All New Stonehenge Experience which is apparently not going according to plan but I would still like to see it, but book ahead?  It’ll never happen unless I have a visitor as an excuse. 

*** Also there were snowdrops.  There were winter aconites too but I’m a bit, meh, weeds, about winter aconites.  I believe my companions think I’m a snarly old so and so.  Well, yes, and your point would be?

†Alfrick came up after, chiefly to give me a hard time about hiding^ behind the forty-seven bishops at the swearing-in ceremony on Sunday—well, if you can’t hide behind forty-seven bishops who can you hide behind?—but I noticed him listening carefully when I introduced my accomplice–er–comrade.  It’s easier to pray for someone when you know their name.  Rather than ‘person who throws furniture around during evening prayer’. 

^ Speaking of hiding.  B_twin . . . bishops won’t save you from guest post composition. 

†† Right after the bath in the shiny-glistening-visitor-worthy-clean bathtub.