Dodging the rain Nov 3

After a couple of weeks of recovering properly from seasonal *lurgy*, I am almost back to everyday outings. I cannot abide being stuck inside for too long and even if the weather is iffy, I would rather risk a drenching than fust away. We are having a week of wind and rain, which is what you want really, in November. Today I was working with one eye on the studio window, watching for a good, clear break after a morning of downpours. When it seemed safe, I scrambled onto Hercules and we headed for the top hill. I soon spotted more wet gloom, rolling in rather beautifully on the back of strong sunshine. Would I escape in time?

No. After a mile of mad pedalling, the first drops began to splatter, hastened in by strong winds.

Nothing for it but to carry on.

Thank goodness for rural bus shelters. We were able to stop and shelter from the worst of it, and dry off.

After ten minutes the skies westward cleared and a clean brightness sharpened the autumn colours.

From the top, I could see the storm cascading eastwards towards Oxford.

Down the big hill, accompanied by gurgling rivulets of rain water streaming to the bottom.

The sun emerged.

By the time I reached the deserted farm, it was a perfect day.

In fact, if it hadn't been for what my West Country mother would have called 'gurt big puddles'...

...you would scarcely have known it had been raining at all.

Rain arrives 6 Oct

Looking backwards from where I've been

We woke today to find autumn rain being blown against the window. It is the first real rain we have had for weeks, and dark skies were sweeping in with intent, as if to make up for past neglect. I tried to nip out between showers and for a while I thought I had escaped the worst as I watched a particularly brooding cloud bustle its wet way across to Oxford.

But inevitably I got caught by another,and endured a wet journey round the lanes, rain streaming down my specs and into my eyes. By the time I reached the flat road on the last lap, it had fizzled out again.

The big ruts in the track by the woods are filling up again and I had to get off and push; neither Hercules nor I are equipped to deal with stony paths and we prefer to walk this part.

The stubble fields are muddy gold, like a drenched Labrador. I sent a text Andy to let him know I was nearly home and there was a cup of tea waiting for me when I returned windswept and wet; but nothing a hot bath and a bowl of porridge couldn't sort out.

High point - it is lovely to finally settle into real autumnal weather.

Low point - rain in my eyes and trickling down my neck.