Monday, May 26, 2008
26th May Bank Holiday Monday - Miserable Monday!
A Bank Holiday..... time for fun and frolic and relaxation in the summer sunshine.
But no - it has rained all day.
Committees have worked for months for village fetes, country fairs, carnivals and so on; and it all came to nought.
It has felt such a sad sort of day.
It led me to scrawl my thoughts into a vague sort of poem.
Such a sad, stormy summer's day -
Plans and projects for pleasure
Washed away by the sorrowful raindrops.
Not sparkling, silver rain,
But pounding, heavy, gloomy and grey,
Fiercely lashing across our field,
Driven by whipping, wild winds.
The lush green of our summer trees
Tossed and buffetted, branches bending.
Few people out, to be seen passing by -
But dogs, as ever, need to be walked;
Both master and beast bow heads, hiding
From cutting rain, stinging their faces.
Birds, too, stayed snug in their nests -
No joyful twitterings fill the air.
We also take refuge in comforts of home -
The Sound of Music blots out the darkness,
As we await the warmth of true summer.
Summer sunshine eludes all our dreams
On this stormy, hollow holiday treat time.
Bank Holidays anticipated, fade and die -
British weather rules the day's fate.
This one was rotten - right through to the core,
Reality and routine returns once more.
So that was today.
We stayed at home for all of it, feeling weary.
We have sorted out some activities - I have described and listed; and then sold a few things. Bill has printed some photographs and thanked some people by phone for birthday greetings.
I snuggled down on the sofa and watched, yet again The Sound of Music. What a great story it is, with wonderful sentimental songs. Bill dozed upstairs in the bedroom.
The rain has stopped now, this evening. It still looks very grey out there.
Early to bed.
Goodnight.
But no - it has rained all day.
Committees have worked for months for village fetes, country fairs, carnivals and so on; and it all came to nought.
It has felt such a sad sort of day.
It led me to scrawl my thoughts into a vague sort of poem.
Such a sad, stormy summer's day -
Plans and projects for pleasure
Washed away by the sorrowful raindrops.
Not sparkling, silver rain,
But pounding, heavy, gloomy and grey,
Fiercely lashing across our field,
Driven by whipping, wild winds.
The lush green of our summer trees
Tossed and buffetted, branches bending.
Few people out, to be seen passing by -
But dogs, as ever, need to be walked;
Both master and beast bow heads, hiding
From cutting rain, stinging their faces.
Birds, too, stayed snug in their nests -
No joyful twitterings fill the air.
We also take refuge in comforts of home -
The Sound of Music blots out the darkness,
As we await the warmth of true summer.
Summer sunshine eludes all our dreams
On this stormy, hollow holiday treat time.
Bank Holidays anticipated, fade and die -
British weather rules the day's fate.
This one was rotten - right through to the core,
Reality and routine returns once more.
So that was today.
We stayed at home for all of it, feeling weary.
We have sorted out some activities - I have described and listed; and then sold a few things. Bill has printed some photographs and thanked some people by phone for birthday greetings.
I snuggled down on the sofa and watched, yet again The Sound of Music. What a great story it is, with wonderful sentimental songs. Bill dozed upstairs in the bedroom.
The rain has stopped now, this evening. It still looks very grey out there.
Early to bed.
Goodnight.
