The rain it raineth ev'ry day....

A Yellow Raincoat (Oil on canvas 36 x 36 ins)

The photograph has done some odd things to the colours of this painting, but it seemed appropriate. Not only is the underpass pictured near the Town Moor, but it has, rather obviously, a raincoat in it.

In fact, the rain lashed down all day on Thursday. It got to the point where I emailed Doctor Pam and pointed out the likelihood of the Hoppings being washed out. Since she's been waiting for 20 years to come up and visit the Hoppings, you can see that the purpose of her trip might be defeated.

However, she rang back and said that the car was already loaded so she might as well come.

In a sense this reminded me of the time I had what was thought to be a broken bone in my foot. (In these days of the Grand Limp, a memory ever on my mind.) They put a plaster cast on my foot, right up to my knee. Then they checked their X-rays again and found I didn't have a broken bone in my foot, just a hairline fracture.

"Still, since you've got the cast on, you might as well keep it for a month," said the doctor, smiling beatifically. Waste not, want not. A motto that made the NHS what it is today...

By the time Doctor Pam arrived, the rain had stopped. So provided there is a fiercely hot Equatorial sun today, baking the Town Moor mud dry, and the Council workmen haven't spent all night drowning their sorrows over England's Darkest Hour in Euro 2004, but labour like labouring has come into fashion and get the wood chips down on what's left of the puddles, all will be well.