The Drizzle Imp

Because of our generally opposite views of life, I defined d and I a long time ago as the Sunshine Fairy and the Drizzle Imp. She doesn't believe it rains...in Wales...because every time we go there together, it's preturnaturally warm and sunny there. Whenever I go...well, practically anywhere, it pisses down almost constantly. Hence the Sunshine Fairy and the Drizzle Imp.

I went to bed on the wrong metaphorical side of the bed last night, pure Drizzle Imp badness, and for once, it seemed to infect d overnight, so this morning, she was just about as snarly and clothes-flingy and "see ya bye" as I was. Possibly this was something to do with the fact that we didn't get to bed till nearly midnight, and we were now awake at 6.30. Anyhow, I was snarly and growly and Drizzle Impish all day long - walked four and a half miles this morning, did the day biting people's head off, and walked three miles after work...

And that's when everything changed. Because on the way home, just about as I got to Westminster Abbey, the heavens opened. And striding down Whitehall, with the rain pouring on me, I felt clean, and happy for the first time today. I started vaguely spinning, almost dancing down the street, running the rain through what's left of my hair till I got to Embankment.

When I got home, the day got even better - firstly cos I was home, and secondly, cos the Inland Revenue had been in touch, with a tax refund. Funky arch-supporting shoes, here I come.

But not before tomorrow, with its weigh-in. I know I've done this before, and this really isn't a case of expectation-management - but I'll have gone back up at least a couple of pounds on last week. And no, that's not just my Drizzle Impness either. Like I said, I'm OK with that, but hopefully, come cool shoes, I'll be able to hit it properly again.

So this is the Drizzle Imp, signing off until weigh-in.