The promised break in the recent hot and sunny weather arrived with a vengeance in Beetley today.
By midday, it was dark enough indoors to put on lights, and the rain soon followed, preceded by loud thunder, and lightning flashes. I was in the middle of doing some housework, and carried on, hoping it might clear up in time for the necessary dog walk with Ollie.
But it didn’t.
Despite the strong winds and deluge, it wasn’t cold. I left the house wearing shorts and a lightweight jacket, having to trust to my full-size umbrella to keep off the worst. After five minutes over on Beetley Meadows, I was soaked through. The rain was coming at me from all angles, driven by gusty winds, so the umbrella could do little more than keep my head dry. The water hadn’t had time to soak into the hard dry ground, so I had to wade through puddles fast-accumulating on the paths. My old leather loafers were soon saturated, and inside them, I was walking in a mixture of rainwater and mud that was squidging between my toes.
As always, Ollie was oblivious. Despite stopping frequently to violently shake the excess water from his fur, he was trotting around as if on a sunny afternoon stroll in the south of France. You would think that all that water would suppress whatever it is he likes to smell so much, but I had to presume that didn’t happen, as he happily sniffed at every overhanging leaf or plant stem. Fifteen minutes later, I was so wet, that I thought I might as well take him across to Hoe Rough for a while. Once we had arrived, I was a little concerned about being in an open area with so much lightning, especially as I was holding an umbrella tipped with a metal spike. The thunder crashed almost overhead, and made me wonder just what would happen if I was struck by lightning. With nobody else around, it would be a good while until they found my body!
The high grasses and low bushes there soaked my legs and hips even further. My shorts were heavy with water and translucent, stuck to my legs like cling film. I was having trouble staying in my shoes, and even my boxer shorts were sodden. The lightweight jacket was so wet through, it appeared to be black in colour, instead of mid-blue. Almost an hour later, I had well and truly had enough. The only diversion was the appearance of large numbers of small frogs, (or possibly toads) making their way across the paths into the longer grass. But even this brief natural wonder didn’t make up for being so wet.
When I stopped to put the lead on Ollie before heading home, he looked at me like a child told Christmas was cancelled. Anyone seeing me walking back must have thought I had been swimming in the river, fully-clothed.
The joys of dog ownership…