Miserable

This region doesn't suit the rain.

Neither do I.

The clay soil turns to mud; the bright colours are muted; the birds don't sing; and everything is rather dull.

All my plants have stopped growing. The courgettes, even with the benefit of their cloche, are sulking. The lettuce plants are sulking too, probably because they can tell the courgettes have a cloche and they don't.

And I'm sulking because I only got to pot on a few plants this morning before my stint standing around watching Mr B doing DIY and occasionally handing him a useful tool, or holding something not quite straight enough.

Tomorrow it will not rain. Tomorrow I will not be miserable. Tomorrow I will remember that CarbBoy has a playdate in the afternoon at that house on the right...