My mother once told me of the time she shared with other girls living in a house where there were all roomies. All of them were young and inexperienced. They acquired a cat, a ginger tom and took him to the vets to be fixed.

Now imagine this older man trying to explain, in very polite and politically correct terms that the wretched cat was neither one thing, or the other and therefore couldn’t be fixed.  That must have been something else.

Bandit Book Tour Bloggers.

Spent most of the day clearing my desk of editorial admin for A and A. I am nearly free now. I have given my evaluations for the ones I think sparkle and am now waiting for my partner to reciprocate on her picks.

Aside from that, I made a fresh mushroom soup for the dh’s lunch tomorrow and it is yummy.  It will go nicely with the focaccia bread I made yesterday. He said he really liked the bread and his soup de jour today, which was split green pea with herbs and jalapeno peppers.  

I had been hoping to get out on my yard for an hour or two, but no, there was another storm front moving in. The VBC was so upset by this that he really needed to cuddle. He hates the loud bangs and cries until he is held. Darn, when is that wretched weather fairy every going to run out of storm seeds this year? We have had enough already.

Our most disastrous camping trip would have been so much better if we had listened to the advice of a local resident. We had pitched our tent in a campground, had our supper and then gone to a bar. On hearing we were visitors, an older guy wanted to know where we had camped. When we told him, he suggested we move our tent. Right, it was now dark. Not going to happen.

It hadn’t escaped our attention that he was drinking whisky chasers, so we put his comments down to that.

Some time during the night the heavens opened. A lot. So much so that the river above us overspillled and cascaded down the slope on which we were camped. We became aware of this miserable development when our sleeping bags became saturated. At that point, we didn’t have anything that wasn’t soaked through. Sometime in the course of dark o clock saw us trawling desperately through the countryside looking for an open launderette. The dh was even driving in his bare feet as his shoes were sodden. At around 4 am we found such a place. Into those dryers went everything we were not wearing: tent, sleeping bags, shoes, clothes, the whole kit and caboodle.

Yes, we should have listened to the words of wisdom, but who would have thought a river would be above a campsite? Had we listened with the appropriate attention, we would have found out this was the case and moved the darn tent. Epic fail.