The delightful comfort of wearing warm socks when the weather has taken a turn for the chilly is disrupted by stepping in a splash of water, such as that created by a large hairy dog drinking incautiously.

And yet the splash is not so large that the entire foot is wet, so that parts of my feet are now crying 'we are sad and wet' while other parts of my feet are going 'but it's so snuggly and warm!  Can't you just wait a bit, the wet bits are bound to dry soon'.

I wonder if this is what Brexit feels like if you are a country.    Get it together, feet.

I should probably try to find another pair of clean socks.  (I do have many clean socks.  Shadow falls over this idyllic situation when the word 'pair' is mentioned.) 

I'm just writing this entry to record that this weekend, we cleaned out the Augean Garage, although frankly, horse poo a la the Augean Stables would have been much more welcome and easier to clean than what was actually in there. Do not click if spiders bother you. They bother me, but sometimes, needs must.
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Note to self: buy new broom.