What day?

This morning I got up, showered and washed my hair, had breakfast, changed the sheets, put on a wash and then sat down expectantly.
Keith continued to sit at his computer.
"Right then," I said, "I'll just sit here ..."
"Yes?" said Keith.
"...and wait for you to remember what day it is today."
We went through the predictable: Friday, Good Friday, beginning of the weekend. Keith was wringing his hands and looking increasingly worried.
"And," I continued mercilessly, "My smile will get ever more fixed the longer you take to get the right answer."
I took pity on him. "It's a special day for us," I prompted.
Understanding dawned. "It isn't.... is it? Today?"
Yes, it's seven years to the day since we first met, outside Littlewoods in Liverpool as it happens, although that's a mere detail.
"Oh, you get less than that for murder!" he quipped.
Hmmm, not if it's due to extreme provocation!

Light rain

The weather forecast widget on my blog tells me to expect 'light rain' today. Mind you, it does tend to change by the hour and never seems to be very accurate anyway. Today, however, we haven't got light rain, we've got very a robust wind and sleet. Earlier, we had snow, which fortunately didn't stick. So the garden is back to its hibernal state of something resembling the Somme and, as Paddy hasn't yet learned to wipe his paws on the mat when he comes in from his 'toilet activities', the floor mop is in constant use.
Last week, when it was sunny and hinting at exciting promises of an approaching spring, I nailed a wooden border to the bottom of the fence in order to persuade Paddy that digging through to next door's garden is not a good idea and I even, daringly, planted a few shrubs in the ambitious hope that they would actually flourish in the apology for soil that makes up our garden.

Then I made my first mistake. I went to Dad's for the weekend and left the 'boys' here.

Although Keith knows that if Paddy is left to his own devices for more than five minutes in the garden, he goes into dig for victory mode, he left him to his own devices for more than five minutes in the garden and, hey presto! Da dawg disappeared into next door's garden.
So by the time he was relaying all this on the phone (Keith, not Paddy - keep up), he had spent half an hour trekking back and forth to retrieve said mutt, his bad ankle was really, really bad and his legs were on fire but he was still maintaining that he had 'done nothing wrong'.

I think he might have been watching too many interviews with politicians.

BUT, tomorrow, the forecast is for sunshine and 9 degrees! (Celsius, I hope).