Changing weather ...

I've just dragged myself upstairs after drifting inexorably into sleep during the weather forecast on the telly - but I already knew what was coming. When I popped out into the back garden five minutes ago the air was full of the scents of the philadelphus and the roses, and of the sound of water dripping, though there was just the slightest drizzle at that moment. It was rather gorgeous, and silent but for the drips and plops.

It seems a long time since I went shopping this morning (It was a long time. It was over 15 hours ago.) I forgot to buy poppadums, but remembered the olive oil. And I found out that the replacing of tills about which I remarked the other day is a temporary thing till they can move the tobacco kiosk to the other side of the store. These facelifts must cost a fortune - and apparently the building at the back of the Morrison's car park is to house the online deliveries business. Happily I didn't have to use a self-service till - I find them murder with a big shop.

What else did I do? I washed every towel in the house and hung them out to dry, which took them only a couple of hours in the sun and warm wind. I had my lunch outside. And then we went for a walk along the side of Loch Striven - it's several weeks since we've been and I love it in summer. By the time we were back at the car the weather was visibly changing: this view looking south shows the grey cloud but the vivid colours reflect the light accurately, and the wild mustard and cow parsley was more abundant than ever. For this blip, however, you'll just have to imagine the sound of sandpipers on the shore ...

I drove home. I'm still learning to feel comfortable driving this new car (going away and leaving it for a week didn't help) - for the benefit of anyone interested in such things I find the gears very close together on the stick, so that I kept going into 3rd instead of 1st, and I have to change down to second far more than previously with the bigger engine. But it's smooth and easy to handle, and I tell myself fiercely that it's much better for the planet. 

And the evening. The evening was made hideous by the sound of the cars in the Argyll Rally passing our front door. Why the organisers think it acceptable to send all these flying cars round a crescent that is purely residential beats me; the noise was appalling (even with double glazing - it comes down the chimneys) and presumably the pollution was horrendous. And all the people who park out front (we don't) had to move their cars elsewhere ... and I can't actually think of anything more tedious than standing with crowds at so-called "safe viewing areas" (or in our case our front garden, should we so choose) waiting for the next car to grind up the hill and surge past, all the time being eaten alive by midges (they're back). And doing it in a week when we learned that a second person involved in last week's horrific accident in the area has died seemed ... wrong. 

Anyway, it's over. It's quiet and damp and lovely and I'm off to bed.