It’s All over Bar the Shouting

Well, like these thistles, the heatwave is over here, washed away by a morning’s downpour of biblical proportions.
Fortunately fate smiled kindly on me as the rain only started after I had cycled forth at 6am to deliver a birthday cake to the doorstep of my Granddaughter who is 20 today and not an early riser.
It was wonderful that I got home dry at that point , because later when I foolishly ventured into town , I was comprehensively drenched. My jeans, socks and shoes couldn’t have been wetter had I jumped into a swimming pool. It’s quite liberating to be so wet that the rain can’t do any more damage, but nice to know that in another 15 minutes dry clothes would be waiting at home.

Dry and sofa sitting with my knitting I am watching the Tour where equally strange weather has changed the final classification. With the race stopped yesterday because of roads covered in hail and mud slides, today’s ride has been truncated drastically for the same reason. With the yellow jersey changing hands unexpectedly yesterday from a Frenchman to a Colombian and likely to stay that way, the French might be justified in crying ‘we wus robbed’.