It's like a Biblical curse, all this rain. I am so glad that I live at the top of a hill, but so sorry for all those people who find their homes filling with water. How harrowing that must be.
The allotment will be a quagmire, and the yellow courgettes will have swollen triumphantly into giant (but never prize-winning) marrows which I shall relegate to the compost heap when I finally make it down there.
I stay at home, occasionally forcing a reluctant small dog out into the rain, watching her try to sneak home without me, and sometimes I practise on my new sewing machine, mastering the stitches and learning how to do blind hemming. I haven't felt brave enough yet to actually cut into some proper fabric to make something, but it will come.
And I nurse my fading cat, who remains interested enough in what is going on for me to feel able to postpone the big decision for another day. I watch his every move, and obsess about his quiet periods, but he always rallies, perks up and greets me affectionately; today he even brought me two socks, something he hasn't done for weeks. He seems happy for much of the time, so we go on as before, at least for now.
This is a strange time.