I worked from home today because the fencing guy was coming round to quote for fixing the flappy fence panels between us and the Crazies. As it turned out, I’m rather glad I didn’t go to Woking.
The weather started reasonably enough but it didn’t last. The wind roared bringing sessions of torrential rain followed by blue sky and sunshine that lasted only as long as the next bout of wind started it all over again. I reckon I’d have managed getting wet going there and coming back.
While I enjoy going to Woking and sitting in the History Centre, I despise doing it in wet clothes. And I would have been wet. There isn’t a raincoat alive that could have withstood the day’s onslaught.
Working at the dining table I watched the war in the back garden, safe inside as birds flew from trees moving more than them. They flapped their wings energetically in an attempt to remain in one place. The bird feeders, surprisingly, remained in place though the bird feed table almost engaged in somersaults, depositing seed on the heads of the walking pigeons on the terrace.
The fencing fellow was due to turn up at 2:30pm. At 3:30pm I received a message from him. His day had been a nightmare culminating in his phone getting soaked taking all details of all things with it. I empathised with him. If my phone suddenly became inoperable, I’d be in a bit of a pickle.
Anyway, we rearranged for him to pop in on the weekend. Given he inadvertently saved me from getting a jolly good drenching, how could I possibly be angry?
Meanwhile in the world of WWI research, I found someone whose early life reminded me of my father’s family. I might write about it tomorrow.