Blame it on the weatherman

No, I'm not a secret fan of female irish chirrupers, just that I'm a tad annoyed that the forecast was completely wrong for today. If I'd have known, I'd have gone to see Dad yesterday. As it is, I've had to come home in more than a little rain - nothing too heavy if you are standing still, but makes a difference on the bike. That, and the wind! So stuck to a steady sixty all the way back down till the mahoosive traffic jam on the M1, where I decided to cut across country, except for the toilet break in Harrogate. This courtesy of far too much tea and coffee at Dad's.

Home is a very quiet place. I've always had this romantic idea in my head of being a country boy at heart, when I more fit the bill of suburban boy (goes with my white-boy dancing non-skills), but Yarm seems ever more quiet every time I return. I guess this is partly owing to the fact that my street, where once every single house had two kids, now has no children at all. Shame really, I'm so glad that everyone in the street used to play outside with all the other kids. A little bit of bullying every once in a while, but nothing that wasnt ever amicably sorted out - or less so in the case where someone was teasing me and I just planted one in his face (an event I do not remember, but am often regaled with). Rather nice. Bit of a same that it's a bit retirement city now, because my street is a very pleasant and safe little enclave.

Dad's looking a lot older these days, but then I do have to remind myself he is pushing seventy. Scary thought. House is much as it always is, and I am reminded again of how much rubbish I have, to deal with and get rid of or whatever. And no family to palm it off on, since Deb+Jason have far too much crap of their own!

Back to work tomorrow, where I shall spend a morning doing lab work and an afternoon doing paperwork. Or at least this is the plan. We'll see how it turns out......and I'm off to run myself a bath now!