It’s raining inside the parental home, of course, despite Bogdan’s efforts to waterproof the building. The windowsills, carpets and curtains are damp and there are puddles on the wooden floors. Water pours in and splashes into the bucket in front of Dad’s chair, dripping onto the book case. The panther lies on the sofa next to me, cleaning himself – rasping his flank with his rough tongue.
This lake is outside the parental front door, so we’re trapped in the house:
On the plus side:
1. Make it to Spin and push self hard – see attached outfit photo.
2. The fluffy monster isn’t marooned outside in the rain, soaking his apricot paws.
3. Achieve bath this morning.
4. We have The Secret Life of Kittens to watch after have scribbled and posted this blog.
5. Manage to vote in the annoying referendum this morning. At least that’s over. Let’s hope everyone can stop banging on about it now.
6. Have unfollowed some of my most annoying Facebook chums so am still friends with them but don’t have to read their stupid opinions on everything, which is liberating.
7. Wimbledon starts on Monday. Let’s hope the weather has improved by then.
8. Am not in a tent at Glastonbury in the flooding. Not that I would be, am not eighteen anymore, but let’s be thankful for that anyway.
Can’t watch any tennis as they’re not playing in Eastbourne in the rain. There’s no football till Saturday and am grumpy about this.
“This is the worst it’s ever been,” Dad says, as he shuffles around putting towels on carpets and windowsills to attempt to catch some of the water.
Lighting flashes, thunder rumbles. Maybe this is the end of the world…
Happy Thursday everyone!
*1948. By Agatha Christie. Hercule Poirot detective novel.