It did hail. It thundered and lightning’d during Easter Sunday’s Service (the vicar name checked me during the Sermon, while talking about his experience at the Cardiff World Half Marathon Championships the day before. The vicar, incidentally, is still about 3/4 minute faster than me on a half marathon. Argh). I worried about the afternoon’s planned run, and concluded that if it did thunder, I’d head straight home by the shortest route.
I went out to attempt 12 miles. I ended up doing 10.5. Between the epic puddle, the hail, the glorious sunshine and the hills, I didn’t quite have it in me. The hail stung. And there were eggs at home. I do love the Pednor 10mile loop. It’s pretty. There were lambs (some of whom had some snazzy raincoats, fashioned from feed sacks), and bunnies, and horses, and nuthatches, and blackbirds, and sparrows, and tits of some type, and a couple of glorious kites who had me so distracted, I very nearly found myself running backwards. And decided to stop, so that I could just gape at them, open-mouthed. I got home, rather soggy and damp, shoes squelching, with my father saying “well, if it had got really bad, I’d have come to rescue you.” “It hailed.” “Oh. We didn’t have any of that here….” No. Just some belligerent ducks in the garden, wanting food.
Mum made me scrambled eggs and tea. I made a perfect pig of myself. And then there was an immensely heavy fruitcake, and hot cross buns, and after that, turkey. Easter is an excuse to have Christmas Dinner but without the pudding. Yum.
I also found Pamela. I made her from scratch in our pottery lessons, with help, when I was 10.
Still no sign off the pyjamas, and I’m off knitting until my left arm has stopped feeling quite so tight and awful – I pulled it skiing, and it’s not quite right yet. Much better than it was, but not fantastic. I’m on an embroidery jag instead. Interspersed with paperwork, clearing leaves from the garden, and trying to finish Em’s cross stitch from 2009.