Grey Skies, Nothing But Grey Skies

The denizens of West Yorkshire have today emerged from their Bank Holiday lie in to leaden skies. An aesthetically displeasing weather state, diminished further by a now familiar accompanying breeze. Rarely a day goes by, regardless of season, where there isn’t a gust of some magnitude rustling the pyracantha or damaging the frail stems of the aquilegia. Some…

Cat On A Cold Wet Roof

The meteorological gods (Keeley Donovan and the blonde lass who reads the Calendar weather) have decreed that today we shall experience torrential rainfall in the West Yorkshire area. Word is that precipitation of biblical proportions will rain down on the residents of Bardsey, Wetwang, Heckmondwyke  and customers of the chip shop with a leaky roof in…

Candle In The Rain

I’ve not been awake long. As I write this introduction, my eyesight still hasn’t fully focussed, culminating in my vision returning unclear views and distant vague shadows. I’ve either very tired, or I’m wearing Karen’s contact lens again! I best go check as last time I inadvertently wore my spouses sight correction devices I spent the…

The Calm During The Storm

I wanted to start this monologue with a simile that aptly describes this seemingly endless precipitation currently blighting Blighty. Within that prose, I wanted the colloquy to paint a picture of such clarity and descriptive quality that would render readers awestruck, before saying “Oh bollocks, I forgot to record that James Nesbitt drama last night!”…