Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this son of a border terrier.
I was looking forward to winter, the promise of my first time playing in the snow. So far though it’s been rubbish. The sun has gone most of the day and the sky is the colour of molten lead; the skins around the area are as miserable as the weather. I’m looking out of the window and its widdling down like the sky is a sieve; that reminds me of a poem by the great Spike Milligan:
There are Holes in the Sky
There are holes in the sky Where the rain gets in But they’re ever so small That’s why the rain is thin.