The forecast rain arrived around half past three. A few minutes earlier, the Sage used my phone to try to ring the auctioneers in Woodbridge and came through here to say the damn phone didn’t work. I tried the number and I couldn’t get through either, but it didn’t seem to be the phone. All the same, I suggested he use the landline and there was a ringing tone and the receptionist answered. Asked if there was a fault, she explained that there had been a power cut during a storm. A couple of minutes later, as they were still talking, the storm reached here and our own electricity was cut off. And a few minutes later Weeza, with whom I’d been exchanging emails, said that she was saving her work in case there was a power cut when the oncoming storm hit. So I can confidently say that it was moving south to north.
As usual when there is heavy rain, it leaked in above the window near my desk. I keep a towel on the windowsill, but had to get a couple more to deal with all the drips. And then the phone rang. People do choose their moments.
I grumbled to the Sage and he explained what needed to be done to stop the leaks happening again. “So you know? Couldn’t it have been done already, we’ve lived here 25 years,” I rather tactlessly enquired. It is quite heartrending, watching the Sage appearing abashed. He has promised to do it, or get it done, I’m not sure which.
Most dismayingly, I’ve been quite off alcohol in this humid weather. One night, I just drank water, and other nights a single glass of wine has been enough. I trust that this state of affairs doesn’t last too long. The evenings seem to drag on forever.