Wet Sunday

Well it was a very wet start to the day, but despite the forecast it dried up a bit. It stayed grey, and there were some short sharp showers, but it wasn't as bad as we had expected.

The Gorse Fox headed off to football. As he parked the car and wandered past the outdoor pitches he smiled and thought back to the wet, muddy days he used to play in those conditions - fifty years ago! He went inside, donned his yellow bib and got on with a weather-proof game. The yellow bibs took and early lead, but soon fell behind and spent the rest of the morning trying to pay catch-up. In the end we lost 10-8, but the Gorse Fox consoles himself with the thought that two of the goals were his.

Back home we spent quite a while exchanging messages with Cousteau-Cub. She is still in hospital, and clearly quite unwell. The Gorse Fox and the Silver Vixen discussed it and offered for one of us to go out to be with her if needed. For now, she told us to hang fire, but the Gorse Fox has spent some time checking the flight options in case. The Gorse Fox also spent a long time on the phone to the Coventry Hobbit to check that he was managing ok without Cousteau-Cub. He's obviously finding things very hard and is quite frustrated with the situation. The Gorse Fox told him to call anytime he wants to have chat or just let off steam.