Drizzle

A day like this is a reminder of how few of them there have been during our travels recently. Not a storm, just a constant stream of wet from the Middlewich sky, blowing on the wind. Even if we hadn't needed to be here tomorrow, there would have been little temptation to move on. And knowing this in advance meant we adapted in advance. Everything was late – getting up, breakfast, coffee, lunch (those small events by which a creature of habit measures the march of time). Even the state of charge of the batteries conspired to make us late running the engine for hot water and some electrons – it's more efficient to let them drain a bit further before charging them up. So the washing up was late as well!

It was getting on for late afternoon before I walked down to Kings Lock Chandlers to make arrangements for a service of our Webasto heater and the replacement of the antifreeze mixture in the heating circuit. Steve, back on duty after a number of weeks recovering from a collarbone fractured while mountain-biking on Snowdon, was able to book that in for tomorrow, Then we went down to Morrisons for the provisions that will see us up Heartbreak Hill over the next few days.

It was, naturally, rather late when we got back. My best beloved stacked things away in the fridge, the cupboards and her favourite veggie bucket, while I got on with lighting a fire. That meant opening a new bag of Supertherm, whose contents have been busy collecting or exuding moisture, or so it seems. So even the fire has taken its time to get going. As I finish, however, a warm glow is spreading across the interior of the Squirrel. A warm glow is spreading the face of my best beloved as she sits down with her job done. And a warm glow is… no, I have to get up and make the tea. But here we are, as the drizzle continues to patter on the roof, dry and snug inside, and soon to be well-fed. In comparison with what millions of people across the world are currently facing, what's a little drizzle?