Ominous ...

I never expected today to be lovely. The BBC weather app had it raining by midday, and I was feeling pessimistic. I had thought I might make it to church without Himself, who after all is a few days behind me in this lurgy thing, but when I got up and attacked the business of breakfast I realised this was a pipe dream. My main problem today, apart from tiredness, has been a bark like a sea-lion heard at sundown on the coast of California from some offshore colony - I couldn't see myself coughing like that in church without scaring everyone silly. What a horrid bug this is - I wonder if other people are barking all over Edinburgh? 

So instead of the usual full-on day that most Sundays bring, I was more or less completely idle. I did walk down to the shops for the Sunday papers, but that was it. I realised that it was a very warm, humid day, that there was virtually no wind, and that the other forecast on my phone had pushed the promised rain on till teatime, so I washed two loads of clothes (no bothers spinning it) and hung them out before collapsing into a garden chair, lunch on the table in front of me, and reading The Observer (and the Dunoon Observer) from cover to cover.

I also dozed a bit. Himself came out, vanished indoors for a sleep. The neighbours murmured quietly, as did the bees. The only noise came from the seagulls, and most of them seemed to be down on the shore. It grew warmer, the sun stayed out. It was almost 6pm when I noticed the change in the sky to the south, and that, I'm afraid, is what you're getting for today's photo. Cumulus to the south, over the wall, above the loosestrife which has rampaged through our garden every summer for the past 50 years. 

I heard from the family in France, expecting in their turn a break in the weather as a terrifying thundery front moved in, and briefly from the others, just returned from Spain. I had lovely texts from church people. I felt I was in a bubble, sealed off from the world. 

I enjoyed my dinner, and fell asleep on the sofa. Maybe I shall be able to lay off the heavy stuff tonight - but I won't push it. Unconsciousness is good. And I have few expectations of the morrow...