Wonderfully wild gales are blowing across the peninsular. Last Saturday I had to take some paintings to an exhibition in Perranporth and the larger ones tried to be kites. The sand blew horizontally across the beach, stinging the very few people brave or daft enough to be taking their dogs for a crap. The car was covered in a film of shimmering salt so I had to treat it to the car-wash on Sunday.
The cats are not pleased with this weather and mope about. 'Outside' looks bad through the cat flap so they ask me to open a door. On seeing that it is no better that way, they survey other doors and windows until, by and by, their dainty needs finally force them to go out. When the large black one came back inside he found my lap was a handy place dry himself.
If it is any consolation, 'global warming' is not due to an increase in CO2, but gravitational surges. (Regular readers of this blog will know that the Earth is in any case donut shaped, not globular.)
Undeterred, the 'Truro Festival of Lights' was as odd as ever.
Have fun and hold tight!
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1 comments:
You should thank the Lord you don`t live in Cumbria where they really know about `weather`
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