Thursday 13th August 2020

Still home alone.

Not parties held.

All cats still alive. Once I found them all.

Which is nice.

Did I mention its still hot? Well, started off cool, then got warmer and hotter.

After feeding the cats, chasing Cleo away from all other cat's food, I could do the bins, put out bird seed, but no need to pick raspberries, as I find a pound of blackberries in the fridge to go with strawberries.

I make coffee, and sit with Scully on the patio just outside the back door.

Thunder and lightning was forecast for the day, I was just preying for it to break the hot and humid weather.

I get dressed, have breakfast and am ready for the day ahead.

Jools calls from the car, using hands free, that they are on the road and heading south.

The morning flies by, mainly with me watching playing kittens and the hissing of the older cats. I call Jools at midday to find she is less than an hour away, so will be home for lunch.

I call to let Jen know, but she knew. Betty is home, in bed, painfully thin, and hasn't spoken. But did smile when she saw Jen.

I have no words.

I fill the kettle and have it ready boiled for when Jools gets back, so she can relax with a brew, although it is still as hot as the surface of the sun. The storms appear to be bubbling up everywhere except Kent. Cambridge seemed to have a storm over it for most of the afternoon, London had one, as did Maidstone. But east Kent roasted on in the endless sunshine.

A few storms drifted up the French coast, and I thought they might make it over the Channel, but never do, although I see the top of the flat-topped cloud.

At half two we hear the ice cream van, and he comes down the road. Jools goes out to get two cones, but the ice cream is melting in the heat before she gets back inside. We eat them quickly, and are rewarded with ice cream covered fingers.

Dinner is wild boar and apple burgers, and I crack open another of the big bottles of tripel to wash it down with.

Still no thunder.

It is too hot to sit on my office chair, too hot to sit on the sofa, too hot to sit on the patio, until the shadows lengthen.

At last.

We listen to radio, then go to sit out at nine to look at the clouds, bats and moths. Next door are having a bonfire, and sparks fly high into the sky.

I have the rest of the tripel, and off the coast of Essex, lightning flashes, bright enough to be seen here.