Cats and Dogs. And gambling thereupon.

Last night we went to the Wharf Inn, Welford. It was a lovely day - as I wrote yesterday - the sun was out. I was happy. We set up in the garden, full of high spirits, and surrounded by kids playing and dogs - well, doing what dogs do. And clearing it up after them. Just as we finished, Anna said to me, "ummm...", and pointed. To an enormous black cloud, with lightening emanating from within it, that was looking at us with a grin from where one ear would be to the other one, if it had them. There ensued about half an hour of ummming and ahhhing, and discussions with Crow - who we see there every year, and can be aged like a tree by the length of his dreadlocks - about the appearance of strom flies and the circling of birds. I decided to unset and go inside - much to the annoyance, although unspoken, of everyone. Just as we finished, it became apparent that the cloud really did have ears, because it cleared above us, and let the sun smirk down again. But it was too late, by now, as we were five minutes late already. So we started. And the pub that had been quiet gradually filled with people, and beer, and noise. And a great deal of heat. From behind the sweat, I glared out of the window at the sun, and cooling breeze. After forty minutes or so, though, I looked out - and the heavens were opening. Which came as somewhat of a relief, as we struggled on inside! But as is often the case, it seemed worse to us - I think the audience finds it easier to block out the background noise than our egos do to accept that we are not the only thing happening in the pub!