My researches into coloured sheep continue apace, and I think my stupid hand is recovering – a little. Typical: you improve enormously, go to the wonderful specialist physio, she says ‘great, carry on what you’re doing and I’ll discharge you’, and then you **** up by doing too much because your hand doesn’t hurt like it did, grumble, grumble…
So let’s have a non-woolly post until I can write properly and start droning on about sheep again (hee hee). There is an upside – I’ve been enjoying the amazing weather, and I hope everyone else has been similarly blessed. Though if the Weather Gods are listening, I wouldn’t mind a little rain, preferably at night, to fill up the water butts. OK? (And if the Style Gods are listening, perhaps they could do something about the enormously hairy fat man shopping in Barmouth Co-op’s fresh veg section in teeny weeny trunks and flip-flops and nothing else? Quite put me off my salad. Plus at first I thought he was naaaked...)
What a contrast to the December solstice, when we were buffeted by rain, storms, winds, floods and general meteorological mayhem,
up to and including hurricane-force winds, though at least people kept their clothes on while shopping for food. Now I like storms – used to climb on the roof of the croft when I was a kid to get closer to them – but that was scary. In contrast the summer solstice was marked by cloudless skies, warm – even hot – weather, and seas you can swim in (presumably the reason for the teeny trunks). In Snowdonia. This early in the year.
Not me, mind, I’m not that mad. But I did have a paddle.
We went down to the beach to celebrate the solstice by marvelling at the weather (all of us), watching dauntless swimmers in amazement and horror (all of us), and eating crunchy sausages so hot from the barbecue that they got dropped (just me, and dropping not eating, that is). It was beautiful:
So here’s a quick summer solstice (just-click-on-one-for-a) slideshow. The beach is Llandanwg near Harlech, the rounded hill is called Moelfre which means ‘baldy’, basically, and I’ve no idea who the man with a surfboard for a head is. If it’s you and you mind, I was only on holiday here and I really live in Ulan Bator…
Oh, I have to add something woolly. Imagine a Fair Isle in the sunset colours… yes, please! Wonder what I’ve got in the stash?