A fine pickle

It has just taken me four and a half hours to drive from the City of London to home - a distance of 70 miles. It was achingly slow to Docklands - an hour and a half. It felt like the world had forgotten us as the rain poured down and City workers rushed through the rain, many without umbrella or coat. (Don't they look at the weather forecast or is the whole macho pack culture so strong that keeping the rain off is considered unmanly?)

Then the long struggle to the Blackwall Tunnel, a crawl out along the A2  and the M2. Only after Canterbury did things hot up but the roads were slick with rain.

A car stuffed with belongings from our little pad in London, the heavyweight sofa bed headed off to Hackney and The Principal's sister. The task of trying to get it back together fell to her husband. But I'm sure he will be up to the challenge.

More rain coming here and NW gales expected early in the morning.

The extra is me in the lift with the last load of chattels bound for the car and Kent. Where does it all come from?