- March 31 2010
Dr Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain…
Torrential rain, snow, blizzards. It must be spring. The snow has only just melted on the Lammermuirs but it’s snowing heavily again. Outside the house there’s been washing on the line since the weekend, wetter now than when it went out. Inside, dirty laundry is accumulating. It’s raining. No, it’s snowing. It’s enough to drive a woman to get a tumble dryer, I tell you. Electricity bills and climate change? Pah!
Torrential rain, snow, blizzards. It must be time to set off for Somerset again. There’s a 3 line whip out for Grandma’s 80th birthday party this weekend. And apologies to the Physics teacher – GP1 won’t make it back in time for the holiday revision classes, never mind that he could sorely do with them. Oh, there are stories there. We’ll be heading south in possession of a brand new kilt of Cranstoun tartan, Dress muted, a birthday present to fulfil a long-cherished ambition of MiL. Cranston is an old family name which hints of a distant Scottish heritage. And never mind the accent of a certain generation, the accent that enabled GP2 to interpret for his football teammates when they met the Duke of Edinburgh. I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed by the kilt.
It may be snowing but at least it’s not -11 Celsius this week. Let’s hope the trip to Somerset this Good Friday is less eventful than that on Christmas Eve. No spare car to fall back on this time; the second car is awaiting its fate at the breaker’s yard and hasn’t yet been replaced. Fingers crossed.