My Cup Runneth Over ?

There are few things in life more diconcerting than turning on the taps in the morning and...... nothing.

Whilst the rest of this green and pleasant land is still flowing with water, in fact ironically there is a flood warning out in Northumberland, it would appear that a rain shadow has quietly extended it's reach over Crowcroft. As a result it has only rained six times here since the end of March.

The chickens are using the rose bed as a dust bath and the Rhododendrons are lying prostrate.

The spring which supplies my taps has decided that it is no longer fit for purpose and has given up all attempts to continue with the task. Hence the dribble or more accurately the lack of dribble into the wash basin.

Little things I notice I miss include: The sweet sound of the loo flushing, the hum of the dishwasher, the swish of the washing machine, filling the dogs water bowl, stepping into a warm shower, or even a cold one, a full kettle on the hob, clean teeth, ditto body and hands!

Thankfully the good old fashioned well is not yet dry so the tomatoes and cucumber plants are less thirsty than me.

Bucket carrying is laborious and one can quite see why the Edwardians were so keen to give it up.

In truth it has made the Horn of Africa feel very close to home and I have sent off a donation to "Medicine sans Frontiere" with all speed.