A strange day. This morning I dressed as I have been doing since April, shorts and a polo shirt, no second thoughts even though I knew that showers were forecast for the afternoon and that we intended to climb Sant Cristau, a 1015m mountain in the Albères. I had planned to boil some water in the chapel at the summit and have a relaxed meal. Arriving at the crest and looking down into Spain, this is what I saw, low mist and black clouds rolling North. Decided I didn't want to return over wet rocks in bad visibility, so my dog Jasper helped me quickly finish some corned beef sandwiches and then we descended.
Fortunately we got off the rocks and onto a forest track as the rain, thunder and lightning arrived. Not a problem for Jasper, his breeder expected him to be a gun dog and accustomed him to noise. He has no fear of thunder, or even fireworks. On the fête de St.Jean he even comes out on the terrace to watch the firework display. Not so his best mate Wally, a hard-as-nails Malinois who hides shaking under his master's bed.
Got home to find Mrs.L shivering in the blanket she acquired ('stole' is such a pejorative word, don't you think) from Icelandair. The heating has not been turned on yet, so I lit a fire, ate a hot meal, had a hot shower and then prepared myself for the cold weather to come with a glass of Bushmills. The Irish do central heating right.
Looked at the thermometer outside at 19h00, it was 13°C. That didn't used to be cold, nor have we ever had a fire before October. Getting old, or getting soft, I suppose.
