Rain, and rain, and rain.
Good effort, summer. I can see you’ve really stretched yourself.
When it’s grey and fuzzy like this, I just want to curl up under the billowy duvet and sleep. Not so for Timothy, who doesn’t believe in daytime naps and has instead gone to climb Snowdon for the weekend. It’s important to let men be men, and sometimes men want to hike up a mountain, eat chilli peanuts and fist bump. Even in the rain.
I hope it won’t compromise his masculinity, sleeping in what I’ve just noticed is called a ‘two season mummy bag’. Um, what? A two season mummy bag sounds horrifically like what I’ve been toting around on my chest since Henry and milk had the big falling out.
While the men do the peanut-mountain-fistbump thing, the women’s weekend will involve popcorn, movies, blankets, a generous amount of apple cider and, coincidentally, a rather larger number of two season mummy bags.
[end of boob jokes. You can come out now.]
Happy happy weekend, you marvellous people! Have a good one. Get out your umbrella.