drippity drip drip

The skies are grey, and on my way in to work this morning, it even rained. No novelty, by any stretch, but it's wonderfully warm out there, carrying a personal hint of childhood nostalgia; of playing games out in the warm, equatorial rains, with none of the discomfiting anticipation of each cursed, icy pinprick of the usual northern-latitude skywater that breaches my defences to land spasmodically on my warm neck. In my hardier moods, it's a contrast that I sometimes enjoy, but not often.

Today, the wetness playing down my neck is mild, refreshing and welcome. After a weekend that has left me with a second set of tan lines -- t-shirt, this time, tank top, the last -- this little bit of grey, and the humid breeze upon which it rides, makes me happy. Before I recover my wits, here's to the fabulousness of drying off soggy toes, of pulling off damp trousers, and of watching the skies pour from behind the frame of an open window whilst bundled up in an oversized bathsheet.

And kudos to hand-held-two-way-radio boy for his excellent first-timer punting skills; Matt didn't fall in, he kept it going in a straight line, and he didn't crash. The bar is set high for the next person...

...cough, cough, héh Jònéh!