Well, I didn't promise startling original content every day, now did I? And it beats worrying about what might happen on Tuesday and whether anything might be salvaged from the political wreck of 2016.
'What's the weather like today, centurion?'
Hail, possibly my least favourite weather. It always seems so aggressive. It's dangerous to drive in, stings the face to walk in, and is bloody noisy. At about 4 am, as it was hammering harder and harder on the Velux, I wondered how long Elfie would put up with it. Sure enough, I heard her shake her head and then perceived her quietly standing by my side of the bed. No point in trying to get her to settle, in her bed or allowing her onto ours, where she would only spend the remaining hours sitting bolt upright in anxious sentry mode, and anyway, that's the thin end of the wedge. We went downstairs and spent the rest of the night on the sofa, where it was quieter, and Tom sprawled in hearing-aid free, blissful deaf ignorance, so everyone had better sleep.
It continued to throw down hailstones all day, yet we had an impressive walk at the end of the afternoon, where it softened to shiny diamonds of raindrops, low sun making the landscape into luminous coulisses below it and casting an intense double rainbow opposite all the way.
I lose myself in agonising second conditional what-if anxieties - what if the weather had been like this when we had to flee the house? What if such a thing had happened when I'd been away and Tom had had been on his own, deaf and incommunicado? Pointless, of course; the other side of counting blessings, I suppose.