The weather's making up for the long dry spell; the towpath is quagged and trench foot is never too far away. Coming over from Bristol yesterday afternoon (I'd taken Boat Teenager out to see an exhibition, but she was too ill for galleries so we ate pasties and went to charity shops instead. For that is how we roll) -a sudden hailstorm engulfed us, and overwhelmed the windscreen wipers. Admittedly the windscreen wipers are very easily overwhelmed, and often need encouragement to get going; I lean out and coax them. But that isn't practicable on the Kenysham bypass, and neither is pulling over.
I made it to the Waitrose car park, though. And presently when I set off again, I passed three different car prangs, one involving three cars. Would you describe them as accidents, or just the result of people driving like idiots when the weather demands care?
Presently I was back on the boat and the sun came out, and the nuthatches were piping away in the woods.
There was a strange noise outside. I looked out. It was Jim in his new boat. He'd approached in silence, with an electric outboard motor. He glid around in odd circles, looking as pleased as anything. He reminded me of Cynddylan on his tractor, and it was RS Thomas' birthday too.
As the sun dropped to the hills across the valley, the tide of shadow rose through the woods above me, and the woodsmoke rose placidly.
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