The outlook varies from standing water to standing water with ripples. We are, again, promised a month of rain in 48 hours - I sincerely hope it isn't last month's rain in 48 hours, since last month we got three months' rain. For all that the rain is warming up and I find it quite pleasant to be lulled to sleep by falling rain.
The foals care not where they wander any more. I first motored between a foal and its mare two weeks since, but now they care less. There are remarkably few butterflies. I have seen both a male and female stag beetle in my garden. Middle son said he saw an adder, which is not impossible - and he is generally a good observer; what he saw was, at any rate, probably too large to be one of our rather common slowworms.
The increasing judder in my car brakes turned out to be in line with my three year old instinct, that the front discs were going gently square. A mere three hundred quid, added to the cost of MOT work and new tyres has resolved that small problem. At least the new discs are manufacturer's originals and not just the cheapest tat that was available.
Dad is living at home again. I must phone and see how he is coping.
There is the smell of fresh paint at home, as if the Queen were about to visit.
Tiredness and insomnia battle it out as the first rays riffle the curtains in the mornings. A shame to feel half way through the year, but a blessing that the light mornings are toning it down a bit. Actually, with the weather the mornings have been almost gloomy this week.
I dare not go on, lest this entry join the previous few in being too long.
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