We went out last Sunday, (22nd May) just before noon, in temperatures a bit unfriendly for me for the time of year. I tempted fate by wearing pink cropped trousers, and a red cotton V-necked Tee top. Because we are in the far north, I also slipped on a zip up micro-fleece and over the top of it, a quilted gilet. My visible homage to late Spring was what could be seen of my bare calf muscles to my ankles, bordered with my trainer socks peeping out from my trainers.

The strategy was to walk away from the direction of the wind. We passed a bay of well camouflaged basking seals,continued tramping along the edge of a field, then came to some sloping grassland that curved round to a rocky outfall. That is when we got blasted by heavy rain! We beat a hasty retreat the way we came, the only way, getting very wet before we reached the shelter of the car, where, we took stock of our washed out plans.

My last thought when we went out on Sunday morning, (before shutting the door) was whether I should have got some washing done 'in between weather’ for putting outside on the line to dry. The blunt and obvious answer is, with hindsight (in this case foresight) very definitely, “no”. We really have been blasted with fierce chilly winds this week. When the weather has been dry, the winds have been forceful enough to dry heavy towels very quickly, so long as they were well pegged. Sheets that were rinsed because bird muck landed on them, also benefitted from quick drying.

I had visions of me being clawed and lifted by the winds as I grappled to get billowing washing off the line; it, (the winds) blasting me off to the Outer Hebrides with a heavy towel and a bed sheet following in my wake. I would be no Mary Poppins, umbrella held high floating elegantly off into the hazy distance - I would arrive more like a startled cannoned Dumbo The Elephant.
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