After the hot sunshine of yesterday it was no surprise to spend the morning inside dodging the thunder and lightning. Clouds rolled over and the thunder rolled through it all morning. The rain came down like stair rods and the poor postie must have been saturated before he got very far. I told him not to worry, I was alright! I didn't catch what he said. However when the lightning was at its height I discovered an old pair of boots, missing for a very long time. It is amazing what you see when lying prone, breathing dust under the bed.
When all had passed by I promenaded through the town wondering if anyone had missed me. None spoke. Not even those who had quickly secured their seats outside the pub, and how much had they consumed in a short time, bothered to glare in my direction. I crossed the park, which was almost deserted bar a woman with several kids on a bench in the distance. A child of about three rode a bike, she rode it somewhat directionless I thought before realising she was riding it directly at me. She stopped in front of me and looked, kids often do and I sort of panicked. The mother was at a large distance and the thought I may be seen as a paedophile talking to her kid crossed my mind, so I moved on. Now normally I would speak to such children, normally I would not react like this, normally I would treat the brat as they deserve but on this occasion, possibly because so few were about, I moved on feeling guilty I may have bemused the child. Here I am worried I may find a short haired, dangly earringed harridan chasing me! What sort of neurotic world do I find myself in? Is it just me? Children of that age I look upon as a granddad would, except I keep the cash in my pocket, and I would prefer to react normally and chat like I feel we should. The kids may be OK but too many mothers are not these days. Some fathers, when they exist, are worse!