No Rain

Sometimes the sound of raindrops on the Airstream roof can make you feel lucky to be indoors, cocooned. If you have nothing more pressing to do, those are the perfect days for a favourite film (I like something old and from a less complicated era for these occasions), gallons of tea, possibly some baking, and definitely some knitting or crochet. But if it's not Sunday, New Year's Day, or you're not on holiday it can be a smidgen inconvenient.

And after the soggy seasons we have all been dripping our way through, it can start to feel relentless, and like a bit of a trap. You can be all Cumbrian about it and just get out there in your appropriate clothing, but then you get back and steam up the place with the drying out process.

Anyway, when there's a gap of an hour or even a whole day, it's a relief to get out there and inhale the fragrance of damp soil and let the retinas rejoice in some autumnal jewel colours. I particularly like it when the sky is heavy and grey, but the sun has decided to come out in the afternoon and splash golden light on the yellowing foliage. If I look down, I love to see a tapestry of russet and gold leaves on glistening, black tarmac.

A Lashing and A Pelting

It's one of those Sundays you just have to go with. Pete said he'd go out and do the chores when there's a lull. Lull, what lull? A lull is when it's drizzling instead of lashing. But you have to be quick.

Weather conditions can be evocative of specific moments, and this pelting is reminding me of a couple of times and places during our first year in the Airstream where we were holed up, keeping warm and dry. Everything, and I mean everything felt like part of a wonderful adventure during our first couple of years. About a month in, we were on a fairly exposed farm not far from Mevagissey in Cornwall, and storms picked up. We didn't know how much the trailer could stand up to, and like all our neighbours on the campsite, we didn't go anywhere for two days. We didn't dare. We didn't know if the Airstream would still be there when we got back. Now I'm not so sure we would have wanted to be in if the trailer had started to tip over. As it was, it just rocked a bit and kept us awake at night.

Later, during our Summer in Ireland, our loo packed up and we waited on a large, deserted campsite by the coast in County Sligo while a replacement was being dispatched. Like I said, everything that happened was part of this incredible time that we had set out to appreciate, no matter what. So, in the wind and rain, clad in waterproofs and Crocs, I relished my walk to the toilet block. And when I got there, there would be musac! It's a bit surreal. Pelted by grey wetness on the way, you negotiated a 'Wet Floor' warning triangle and walked into a discomfiting cocoon of industrial toilet cleaner aroma, yellowed wall tiles and unnecessary music. But I did enjoy the particular lived-in quality of this slightly run down, out of season site. I'm sure it would have been perfect hell during the holidays.

So these images of being marooned in the wind and rain are flashing back to me, I don't have to go anywhere, Pete thinks he has perceived a lull, and he's out there choring. Alabama Shakes are playing, freshly downloaded after seeing them on Later With Jools last Friday. Jack White was good, but Brittany Howard really reached down in her boots and rocked.

Better put the kettle on because that lull was a false one and there's one soggy husband out there.