A consistent, relentless downpour of rain is drumming the windows on one side of the house, and pouring from gutters on the other side. Somehow I don’t think Miss Eight will be going to rugby practice this morning. She’s dressed in her kit (and has been since 7am), and keeps looking hopefully out the window, but given the conditions I’ve been preparing her for disappointment.
Meanwhile our eldest has gone out to help marshal the local half marathon this morning - W and Miss Twelve will be standing somewhere on a local road for an hour or so along with the rest of the girl guides, handing drinks out to lunatics.
I wonder if the people running in marathons, half marathons, and fun-runs really appreciate the people who are there purely to avoid arguments with others? I’ve done marshalling at various marathons before, because I was told to. I had nothing to do with the club, and wasn’t even running regularly; I just got instructed that I was helping out.
Coffee. I need coffee. And some toast maybe.