Tuesday, 9 June 2015

Call this summer?

Well as you all know, Andy Murray lost. But nevertheless the French Open final was brilliant and I'm so pleased Wawrinka won. I have nothing against Djokovic, it's just that it's so lovely when the underdog comes through, and in style, to win. Onward to Wimbledon!

Meanwhile I'm pleased to report that Vespa is recovering well. So well, in fact, that all his pent up energy has been taken out on his toys which are now ripped to shreds... the joys, and expense of having a dog around the place. I won't go into the details of how his recovery from enteritis, followed by a day and a bit of constipation played out, but I'm sure you can use your imagination. Being ill during the French Open did mean that he was relatively quiet though and, in between severe bouts of cuddling, we did manage walks in the sunshine that appeared over the weekend along with high winds just to make sure it was still cold.

Sadly the sun has not lasted and we're back to full on grey skies and temperatures around the 12 degrees mark. And this is flaming June, with the emphasis here on the flaming, used totally as a swear word today. Where is summer? Please don't tell me we've had it... I don't think I could cope.

One of the good things though about the year trundling on at such a pace is that in November I'm off to South Africa for a holiday with my friend, Tracy. And the rate this year is going November will be here in no time at all. At least it's pretty much guaranteed that the sun will be out for quite a bit of the time and I have that to look forward to. I've not even worn a short sleeved T-shirt since I got home from Bangkok and have stuck rigidly to long socks and my warm jacket, which I seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time wearing around the house these days.

On that rather depressing note, I'll leave you for another day in the hope that by the time I pick up my blog again some warmth will be creeping into the Scottish Borders.

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