Men come from......

'Whan that April with his showres soote
The droughte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veine in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flowr

G. Chaucer


As you know BB has gone down to see the memsahib whose not too well.

The result is that the Wonder Dog, General Photographic Assistant and Rabbit Hunter (failed) and myself are alone in the house. Everything still gets done, the laundry, the cleaning, the bill paying and all the other little jobs that somehow fall in to BB's more than capable lap.

This afternoon I took a loaf, which I made, out of the freezer and left it outside to thaw while I busied myself with some vitally important job - Blip diddling I think.

Around half an hour later I realised that it was raining and dashed - not a pretty sight - outside to retrieve the bread. Yes, soaked.

The now Soggy Staff of Life, is, as I type drying out in the oven because I can't be arsed making some more.

Lets call it a man thing.

...and the point of this story?

Well, BB would have known it might rain and never have done that, or would have remembered and taken it in, or not have been as daft in the first place.


You can see the rain coming in this picture.