Dampness

These are your Mother's Day daffodils, Daughter 2. Aren't they lovely?
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The Weather Elves are playing one of their customary jokes on Britain - after basking in warmth and sunshine for the past couple of weeks, we're now being chilled by sharp winds which throw down hailstones the size of - well, not golf balls, though I'd love to claim that. Seed pearls, possibly. Chunky seed pearls. But anyway, none of it's doing my spring flowers much good. I've moved Daughter 2's daffs into the sheltered bit beside the front door. The cats haven't stirred from the sofa all day, as far as I've seen. I think they've gone into hibernation.
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It's odd when you doddle along for 120 years or so, under the impression that you know what you think about something, and then you're made to reassess your opinion. For example, on the radio yesterday they were talking about drought - some parts of England are about to have a hosepipe ban to restrict use of water, though Scotland isn't in great danger of having this inflicted on it (as you'd realise if you were here, looking out of the window with me.) They were discussing putting washing-up water on flowerbeds and being careful not to run the water all the time you're brushing your teeth and so on. Then someone said that he puts the cold water that comes out of the tap while he's waiting for it to get hot in a watering can and waters the garden with it.
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And everyone was jolly-gooding and then one chap said that actually it would be better to run unwanted or used water down the sink, because then it goes straight back into the system, whereas water on the flowerbeds doesn't. Which hadn't occurred to me.
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I wonder if this is really the best thing to do. The thought of drinking (in due course) someone's used washing-up water doesn't appeal much but... . Hmm.
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No doubt my brother has an opinion about this. I shall await his comment.
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Daughter 1 and Grandson were here today. He has a cold. I won't tell you precisely what happened when he sneezed but he looked most surprised. We were a bit surprised ourselves. Fancy such a small person being able to produce from his tiny nose such a stream of... yes, well. (Two streams, actually.)