Busy busy busy. The weather is so crap that even I'm bugged by it. I honestly don't mind the Scottish climate at all, I prefer a summer that's not too hot. But this morning as I was walking the dog, parka fully zipped, hood up, hands in pockets, I thought -- this is not good. This is bad. In May I was enjoying eating breakfast outdoors; now the sandal tan lines on my feet are fading. It's cold. It's wrong.

Bertie loves it though, he likes braking hard from a full sprint on wet grass -- wheeeee!

And the garden of course is doing well with the regular downpours. The alleged blackcurrant bushes have fruited -- and tada! they are raspberries. Big fat ones. I have to race the birds for them. I also found wild strawberries up under the bridge, they are delicious. Tiny, like fairy fruit, and intensely flavoured. My own strawberry plant has flowered, so have the tomatoes. The weeds are growing like weeds, and the lawn's becoming a lush meadow, too wet to mow.