raining on the parade

It began to rain last night after I had gone to bed.  The Systems Administrator told me that when it started all three kittens hurried inside in quick succession, looking damp and irritated that their night's fun had been curtailed.  It was still raining when I got up, and the kittens' fractious air conveyed that this had been going on for quite long enough.  They are not used to long periods of rain.  During June when it was wet they were still kept inside, and since they were given free range of the garden there has only been a handful of wet days.

They ate their breakfast and then congregated by the glass front door.  Mr Fluffy stuck his head out of the cat door at one point, discovered that he was getting wet, and retreated to the kitchen, grizzling.  Eventually Mr Cool shouldered his way out, to reappear an hour later with soaking feet and the hairs of his back made wispy with moisture, carrying a small, wet and very dead mouse, which he ate.  Then he reposed in a box in the kitchen for a while before going outside and repeating the exercise.  Mr Fidget curled up on the chair in the hall for a while then played at banging the cat flap, pretending he had forgotten how to use it.  Only Our Ginger understood that there is nothing to be done about rain, and caring nothing for the US presidential election he lay down in front of the Aga and went to sleep.

I have lost all respect for the Americans.  We did not have the heart to listen to banshee lamentations and post match autopsies on The World at One and sat eating our Seasonal Soup Of The Day (What Leftover Vegetables Are Hiding In Your Fridge?) in near silence.  A celery stick, a brown onion (best before 9 September but still good), a carrot (fairly new), an odd leek left from making a chicken and leek pie, chicken stock from the same chicken that went into the pie, and some little pasta bows for soup from Tesco, if you want to know.  It was a good soup.  The secret's in sweating the onion and celery for a long time in butter, then putting the finely sliced leek in near the end so that it doesn't go slimy.

It was still raining after lunch.  Mr Cool disappeared back outside, Mr Fidget reverted to banging the cat flap, and Mr Fluffy nipped out then came to prance over my pile of Gardens Illustrated magazines with wet feet.  He was very resistant to having them dried on a piece of kitchen roll, and it is lucky that the magazine is printed on such shiny paper that I could wipe most of the damp and the mud off.  I have to go and give a garden club talk later.  Seldom have I felt less like going out and enthusing a room full of people, but I'm sure I'll like it when I get there.