Talking Weather, Broken Boots

Christ it’s Bleak on top of the hill in the winter, the weather’s filthy, my wellies are broken and my work boots are taking a real battering. The Claggy Clay soil is both slippery and sticky, a juxtoposition of ground conditions and the holes in my wellies stencil dark soggy slits on my socks. So every welly wearing day for what feels like ages I’m having to strip down after my walk; careful ladies, deep breaths, and dash upstairs to slip into my afternoon lounge wear, whilst slinging my sodden outerwear into the washer.  

One good thing about this weather and my new (here he goes again I hear you cry) work operating system, is that I spend very little time working outside any more, my work mojo is gone and I’m becoming an indoor copy of my former outdoor self. Bleak Monday evening sometimes brings Bubble and Squeak or Coddle for dinner and lashings off plain water, do you realise it rinses out all the bad stuff, and here I am aged 51 and have only just discovered the miracle cure, the elixir, cleansing but slightly dull, still lets see how far the tummy tumbles by the end of the week. Funnily enough I started off this year weighing 0.15kg more than I started off the last year, so much for getting Beach Presentable, but where the dog still needs walking and my job still shows me no respect I shall do the same to it. Tomorrow is a pyjama day!!


  1. Pjays don’t wear them myself. Wellies we call them gum boots here. Losing weight is proving more difficult than I hoped. After surgery I couldn’t walk but didn’t stop eating. Now I am walking but need to lose the stone I collected while using a wheelchair.
    I have been working from home for 25 years IT. Web building and writing. I’ll be 69 on 20th, I had thought you a little older due to your mature cursing and phobia of the new fangled programmes, hoo roo read you later mate.

    Liked by 1 person

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