splat. a fat raindrop
falls from wet honeysuckle
down dry back of neck.
Hmm. I guess I should trim the greenery round the front door, but it's growing so well!
Yesterday was a splatty sort of day. The song says 'sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug' - but why, with around one-and-a-half square metres of windshield, does the bug always splat right where I look out of it most of the time? And why, if there are a lot of bugs, is it always the biggest, juiciest, most messy bug that splats in this position?
Why is it that if I am behind a lorry, it's nearly always one carrying wet gravel (splat - dirty wet mud all over the front of the car) or a refrigerated fish wagon (splat - salty fishy water all over the front of the car)??
And this is the point where I discover that the washer bottle has now run dry, after bug removal. Deep joy.
And then there was the gull that whitewashed my windscreen on a roundabout in Great Yarmouth...but that's another story.
Summer is definitely here - that harbinger of the season, 'unfeasibly extensive roadworks', is seen in the land.......
Red light. More roadworks.
Lots of men doing nothing.
A two mile tail-back.