Welcome to my perfumed garden

and I'm exiled upstairs, for the builders are here to fix the chimney/rip-up the kitchen ::cue sounds of filth, turmoil, mud and destruction:: I'm feeling a tad fed up when I see

THIS

and suddenly, there is good in the world again.


*Sunday-Monday, the deluge actually stopped for a whole 2 days in a row. Honest to God, there was actual sunlight all day long. I almost went mental.

ETA 14.30: There's been a huge wreck of dust and stone, everything reeks of wet soot. The new liner has become lodged in the tunnel of goats against a fallen stone deep in the chimney. The builder is currently bashing a hole in the spare-bedroom wall (occassional home to many a fangirl :) to free it. Lord knows how long this is all going to take to put right. ::holds head in hands:: On the bright side, he's fixed our drippy gutter while he was up the ladder so, swings and roundabouts. shitshitshitshit.

ETA2: 16.00: He's still here, still working poor chap, up and down the ladder and on to the roof in the pouring rain.
Pictorial evidence of our nightmare.



In the kitchen...



In the bedroom...



Oop  t' chimney.

It's still raining, too. ::laughs like a mad thing::

Lots and lots of RAIN! Simply terrifying quantities of water are falling from the sky!!!

Hoping we don't get a spring rising in the kitchen. again. Though I suppose, looking on the bright side, we could bottle it and make a fortune. Withnell Kitchen Spring anyone? I could put it in a blue bottle, I have one somewhere. I think it's in the cupboard next to the fridge

Yes, my fellow Brits, we are very crap at footie, but who cares about that when we live on what is possibly (still) the coolest lump of stone on this planet? Oh yes, my babies, for we have Time Lords and they rock!

We also have NEW! Top Gear and Reliant Robins! Oh good gracious me, I thought I was going to die, if not of suffocation then the massive haemorrhaging caused by the lolz - And new IT Crowd! and Rev starting tonight. It is, indeed, good to be alive. If only it would rain, just a bit (I know, I know, I'm never satisfied, me but my rain barrel is down to its last smelly dregs and there's only so much you can do with a watering can and a bit of leaky hose that was bought in 1972).

It's June, you know, summer? So plz to be telling me why it feels more like bloody November out there? At least we've been spared the tornadoes this time. I hope East Anglian flisters are safe and well.

I smell woodsmoke on the howling, wind-soaked gales breeze, a neighbour has clearly caved...

Plenty fell in the night, we were getting a proper frightening few inches building up out there when we went off to bed but it's pretty much all melted overnight which is - good, isn't it? When we need to go out tomorrow and the coalman's due and only a day's worth of fuel left in the bunker. So why do I feel so let down by the absence of the tedious cold stuff? What a complex, contrary and thoroughly precious little snowflake I am.

So, we are home (kneels and kisses slightly threadbare Persian rug)! The house is still decidedly chilly but the Aga's lit and after a pleasing log fire last night, warming slowly (though I'm still in my thermals).It's 9.30 and I'm still in my pjs, trying to gear myself up to the rigours of the day but getting the usual first-day-home, post-Dad crash in which I sit on the sofa and stare at the wall and/or ITV4 till teatime.

Hey ho, I must move myself and shower and make the bed and write something, there are novels and TS Fics of Teh Most MASSIVE! Angst to be written, not to mention Real Work (of the sort that pays the bills) to be accomplished.

Maybe mor coffee will help? It has achieved exactly nothing so far this icy morning but I feel it's worth a try. ::nods::

Again. Woke to a good 6" (oo er missus!) and it's still coming down.

I love the snow but this is getting tedious. At least it's Sunday, there is such a thing as toast in the world and Randall and Hopkirk is on in a bit; life has its small compensations.

Huzzah!

*g*

No snow on the ground here but it's just started falling from the sky. O: And the door man is here, fitting our catches, we can has new doors at last (and there was much rejoicing).

But by bloody 'eck it's cold! My nips are tunnelling through my clothes like The Mole in Thunderbirds.

...Of walking a mostly-blind dog in wet snow in the almost-dark when school's turning out.

Almost an inch deep now. Buggerbuggerbugger.

We're still planning to drive back to Withnell tomorrow - srzly, they're going to have to close the M62 to stop us, we are so ready to be home already!

I am, however, starting to wibble about the proposed weekend in Matlock. I mean, the met office are saying the snow will be gone by the weekend, but then they said this weather wouldn't be here till tomorrow teatime so once again, I point my angry finger in a south-westerly direction and indicate by means of semaphore and Aldis lamp that they are made of purest  F.A.I.L.

ETA: Oh, now  you change your forecast NOW you issue your warnings. Bit  bloody late when there's already an inch of the stuff on the ground, y'shower of bastards!

...quite heavily.

I rather wish it wouldn't.

It's absolutely ARCTIC out there! All water is solid ice, the roads are impassable.

What happened? I demand an explanation for this climatic outrage