The blustery day

My goodness, it's been blowy! Excellent for drying washing, despite occasionally having to retrieve clothes from neighbours' gardens where they have been borne upon the breeze, but not so good structurally. Several fence posts have decided that 60 degrees is the new vertical, a large section of guttering is investigating life at grass-roots level and three panes of greenhouse glass have gone forth and multiplied into about 15 million. We shall be busy little people tomorrow.

Unless of course, tomorrow has been planned by a woman. For it is Mothering Sunday, when all mums get treated to a day of rest and pleasure. Household chores will be done by their adoring family, and in the afternoon they can recline with a box of scrummy choccies and watch a romantic black-and-white film on the television. I'll check the TV listings to discover the difficult choice I will have to make. Will it be 'A Town Like Alice'? 'From Here to Eternity'? Or even 'Brief Encounter'? Let's see. A soap omnibus edition, followed by Fame Academy. Rugby. The Malaysian Grand Prix. Enterprise. Or T.J. Hooker.

Well, what do you know? Mothering Sunday has nothing to do with women. I'll be mending the guttering followed by playing the Ironing Game. Maybe next year will be better, eh? But I'm not holding my breath.