Tired as a Very Tired Thing
aka: ‘As Wet as a Drowned Rat’
I am as tired as a very tired thing that has just spent all day running around in a giant hamster wheel that has made it very tired. I’ve even considered simply doing a page of ZZZZzzzzzzz……. But I think my little finger might go into a spasm and that would make me even more tired.
You know what, I think it’s the weather. It drains my energy. The rain has been relentless! This morning I poked my nose out of the front door to assess whether or not to get us all togged up in waterproofs or not for the school run – and I was nearly drowned in about 30 seconds. Horrid, horrid, horrid.
Sausage wore his all in one blue waterproof telly tubby outfit, and Darlek wore her pink waterproof with the zip done right up to her nose. I wore my massive murky green waterproof coat that looks like a tent. We all got wet anyway. Dunno why we bothered! We should really have gone out in shorts and T’shirts and saved on clothes drying time.
There was more water in the air than air today. Poor Darlek had her gym leggings on when I picked her up from school as her trousers were soaked by the time she got into class. It really was that bad. When I set off to pick both kids up at the end of the day it was awful. I found myself walking up the hill and paddling through streams where there are usually pathways. Within 5 minutes of walking out the door the water had soaked through my boots, I felt like I was wearing a wet suit with a leak in both toes. I even tried to lean forward on the balls of my feet to squeeze the water out a little. Not nice.
I want a new drought, this one’s all wet. This is, in fact, the most rubbish drought I have ever lived through. I thought droughts were supposed to mean lazy days ambling to and fro to the shop for ice-lollies for the kids, sitting on the doorstep tanning my milk bottle white legs, rooting out sunhats from the bottom of cupboards and smelling of sun tan cream all the time. But no! It seems a drought in this country means everyone digs out their welly boots and umbrellas and spends hours staring out of rain speckled windows whilst the kids try to beat each other to death after being confined to the living room for hours on end. Not that I’m complaining…..much.
I’ve heard positive thinking can make a difference to this kind of thing. Apparently I need to embrace the sogginess, and make the best of it. So I’m going to make an effort to appreciate the sepia sort of light that hovers over the area when the sky is striped with rain. I am going to take notice of the way the rain makes the river a mass of interlocking, ever changing, ever moving circles as it patters on to it. The puddles are there to be jumped in, never mind soggy socks and jeans that stick to my ankles, it won’t kill me or the kids to get wet feet. When I’m trudging up and down the hill I shall make an effort to pause and listen to the plop of the rain as it hits the leaves and the forlorn pink bunches of cherry blossoms. Rain clouds can be spectacular and I’ll look out for the ones that I can make shapes out of. If there is ever a gap between the clouds that is. When the skies are just plain dull grey, I’ll stop looking up and instead look at the kids as they potter along beside me giggling at the streams running down the hill.
It’s been lovely to see both of them cupping their hands to catch the rain and throw it at each other. Every now and then one of them will stop and open their mouth to try and catch the drops, looking like huge baby birds begging for food. Darlek has been asking about where the rain comes from, and I’ve been trying to explain evaporation and the cycle of rain to river to sea and then back up to the skies again. It’s rather complicated to get across really, I always was rubbish at geography. (Is it geography where they teach you these things?) Sausage is still asking why the leaves are falling off the trees when they aren’t any more too. He’s also been asking if Father Christmas is coming again soon – so as you can imagine, the conversations on our soaked school runs have been quite diverse.
So, yes. Here, now, this minute, I declare I will not be beaten by crap weather. I like it really, I do, I do, I do. Do I sound believable? I suspect you can hear my voice cracking even through the medium of the written word. I’m going to do a Gloria Gaynor impression now:
‘I will survive! I know as long as I know how to live (or put on wellies) I know I’ll stay alive!’
Come on now, sing along with me! Sing it like you mean it!(Kay mutters something about fecking rain, soaked socks and raging athletes foot)
Here’s to surviving an English summer! And here’s to hoping for sunshine! Cheers! *Raises a welly boot filled with rain instead of a glass of champers*