TheBanyanTree: A great disappointment

[John Bailey]

Friday May 7, 2004

A GREAT DISAPPOINTMENT

We've had so much good weather here since we moved in a little over a month 
ago that when it turns wet and nasty for a spell you feel deprived. Robbed, 
even.

It all happens so suddenly, too. This morning, in Spilsby, we were enjoying 
a quiet little saunter in mild sunshine when, like that little shudder you 
get and attribute to someone walking over your grave, the wind shifted 
round, lifted up a notch or two, and chilled the whole thing out. The sky 
clouded over within minutes, and it was clear that we were in for a bit of 
rain.

"It's turned really cold," said the friendly woman in the pet shop.

"Darn right," I said. "And it happened just now because I felt it change."

"That's the way of it here," she said. "You'll get used to it."

Actually, it all turned out rather well. Graham wanted to do a turn around 
the town and my legs weren't up to it, so I grabbed a paper-wrapped portion 
of chips, liberally dosed with vinegar and very lightly dusted with salt, 
and sat on a bench nibbling happily while he wandered off to inspect all 
the shop windows. By the time I'd finished and cleaned off my hands with a 
wet-wipe, he was back in sight, happy as a sand boy.

The drive home, only five and a half miles, was under skies that were 
growing steadily darker and darker, and the landscape was misting over, 
growing all soft, like a watercolour painting left out in the rain. And 
then, just as we got home, the first spots fell. I wandered round to 
inspect the fish pond, reluctant to give up my dose of fresh air any sooner 
than I had to. Standing against the front wall of the house, under the 
eaves and hard up against a projection to avoid the worst of the wind, I 
watched the surface of the water dimple, just a little at first, and then 
more and more. The water lily is still in its infancy, with only five 
leaves, and two of them the minor affairs that were on it when it was 
planted, but even so there's enough to get an impression of what the pond 
will look like in the summer rain. It's no match for Monet's pools but 
it'll do.

Back indoors, Harry Cat had retired to a warm spot on top of the boiler and 
Dolly the Mega-cat was looking out of the window in disgust.

"Yes, Dolly," I said. "It's all wet out there."

I got a sideways glare. I think she was telling me to do something about it.

"Sorry, luv. No can do."

I collected another glare for that. Sometimes I get the impression I'm a 
great disappointment to Dolly the Mega-cat.


--

John Bailey   Lincolnshire, England

journal of a writing man:
<http://www.oldgreypoet.com>