Yesterday the spell was broken. We have been having a lovely spell of dry weather that has lulled us all into a false sense of how nice summer can be. Oh how wrong we were. With daytime temperatures down to only 12 degrees and enough water falling out of the sky to fill a bath, I was not a happy dog. I object to being showered with cold water while trying to pee. To be honest, it was worse than that. The damp got into my joints and I had to face the indignity of trying to appear nonchalant while falling over trying to cock my leg. I fell on some of the new seedlings, so I’m afraid they’re goners too. Mind you, I was able to spoil my Master’s day into the bargain. While he doesn’t care so much about the seedlings, I had to break it to him that his attempt to repair the summerhouse roof has also been unsuccessful and whilst it is not leaking as badly as it was, nevertheless it is still letting in water.
I didn’t need to add to our Mistress’s woes. She had walked Aristotle in the pouring rain and didn’t realise that her sweatshirt was sticking out of the waterproof. It was only when she got up from her desk having been sitting on it that she found her trousers were now soaked through and as she was already late to set off for my swimming lesson she hadn’t got time to change. I promise I didn’t laugh at her very much. I now understand why she thought it so important to choose new tyres for the car that have a good stopping distance in the wet. One thing you can be certain of in this country is that there is going to be wet!
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