A Rainy Day In

Still in The Netherlands, we woke to a hazy world with a BBC promise of less than a 40% chance of light showers over lunchtime. Forever the optimist, and the fact that I was about to put on my last pair of clean knickers, off I stomped with a bag for life full of dirty washing. Google translate helped me start the washing machine whilst I dragged my other bag for life into the shower block. I may have managed to use the washing machine, my showering experience wasn’t as simple. For the last 8 days we have been pitched in a friend’s garden so have been using our own bathroom for all our bathroom requirements. Hence, lock myself into a cubicle and start to dispense all my lotions and potions onto the little shelf by the tap to realise I had forgotten my new shower gel, I had to squeeze the tiniest dribble out of the old bottle, I’d also forgotten my hair curling cream, my pouffe, for scrubbing myself and that last pair of clean knickers. Like a trouper, I was undressed now and certainly not getting dressed again to go back and collect my remaining bits and pieces, I soldiered on and showered as best I could then wandered back to the caravan with a bag of clean, wet washing and no knickers on.

Ariel washing line pegged firmly into the ground I started to peg the washing out, hoping that the couple of hours before the lunchtime showers would dry the clothes. Alas, not quite dry, the heavens opened as predicted at lunchtime but we got more than a light shower, all hands on deck to try to unpeg the clothes line and relocate it under the canopy.

The rain bounced down on the roof, Vernon Kay coming through BBC sounds faded into the background. This was no light shower. Time to settle down and go with the flow for the foreseeable, we certainly won’t be going out any time soon.

I settled myself with my book, I only seem to be able to make myself read either sitting in the garden in the sunshine or on holiday. I love a good book and Lucinda Riley had me engrossed yet again. I then switched to my crochet, I’ve got two projects on the go at the moment, another cardigan and some bunting for the caravan. My newly found love for liquorice tea oiled the pipes as my crochet hook whizzed around my balls of wool.

The site has ground to a halt. Site staff were hedge cutting somewhere in the distance, I think they too have probably scuttled off to find the kettle and a biscuit. The Dutch are very sociable creatures and like to be outside their caravans, the men tinkering with this and that and the ladies sitting, watching and happily chatting with passing neighbours. Not today, not a soul is in site, chairs have been put away and all those little jobs that the men were doing have been put on hold. The WiFi is now struggling too as everyone settles down to wait for the rain to stop.

The birds are quiet and raindrops chase each other down our front window. The Boss gets the biscuits out and the kettle boils again. Back to stick my head in my book with a steaming cup of liquorice tea. Did I mention it was my new found love? I may just happen to have bought a little stash of it to take home. Just then we spotted a huge puddle forming on the canopy. Great care was taken to knock it off without it going anywhere near my washing.

Three hours after the light shower started thundering on our caravan roof the drops became less, Radio 2 was audible again and the birds were making a little effort to sing again. The skies grew lighter and the raindrops stopped, hours after the BBC predicted. Voices can be heard again, as people make their way into the very wet world either to pass pleasantries on ‘where on earth did the rain come from?’ Or quickly visit the loo. My washing still isn’t dry but thankfully due to the canopy it isn’t any wetter. We wait to make sure it’s stopped and then pop the heavily ladened washing line back out on the pitch. Hopefully it will be dry by the time I need more knickers.