So they say

They say the sky hides a secret. When not clearing for Artic blasts, sweeping squalls and pounding us with rain, beyond the grey, there is colour and a reluctant white ball of heat that jumpstarts all creation into life. Till then its sideways hail in the ear-canal, blasts of rain in the face, bare trees and wet feet. It will pass, and is so much worse elsewhere... And at least when it is this bad it makes me stay in and study under jumpers, listening to Neil young and eat grapes. But we are all so over it.

After a run and some yoga. 2/10
Sinking feeling all the work will not be done in time, but it never is, never is..