THE yard up to the porch door was flooded by overnight rain. I never heard it. Never do hear crying or crises in the night or so I'm told crossly in mornings.
Swept at water and wrung and hung the mats, then fled. The place could wash away for all I care.
I wanted to see if the studio had leaked; the roof is a sieve. I've lost weeks of work, pounds and poundsworth to the elements.
All well. The rain had lashed at the sound side, the gunnels had held. Top floor studio, good height, great light, perishing in the winter, broiling in the sun, long-term secure but leaky - great space. Cheap though, but considering - it would have to be.
Varnished Living on this Isle pair; set up photo gear and snapped them. Hunted hopefully through the old frames for three suitables for the Discerning Eye competition entries and failed to find any. I'll have to make or buy.
I hate frames and not just 'hated frames yesterday'. Hating frames is not a hobby. I really hate those square-cornered, up-tight-fitting dust-free delicates.