Day Two (Night): Torrential rain, non-stop.
Day Three (Morning): Sun and strong winds.
Day Three (noon-six p.m.): Torrential rain, non-stop. No stopping. Constant, pounding, ongoing, perpetual, unchanging, relentless, monotonous, uninterrupted rain for six solid hours.
The woman camping alone next door in – I kid you not – a child’s pop-up tent, complete with the necessaries: beer fridge and TV, packed up and went home because she was flooded out. Our gazebo died and the boys had to disassemble it.
We had a back-up plan for entertainment: lunch, cards and Rhyl Sun Centre. RSC is an indoor pool with slides and waves and things. In any other country, an indoor pool with slides and waves and things on the beach front would seem daft, but we are talking about Wales. Wet, wet, wet Wales, where everyone wears cardigans over their bathing suits in August.
The Hub dropped the kids off then came back and dropped off.
I dogsat and read my Kindle. I started three books and couldn’t get in to any of them. Hundreds of books on my Kindle and I couldn’t find something new to enjoy. It was like having literary cable.
I thought for a moment: I was alone in the wilderness (the Hub was en route); there was little food left; I didn’t know or trust anyone around me.
Time to re-read The Hunger Games.
- Newsflash: It Rains In Wales (thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com)
- Shock Sighting In Wales (thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com)