And who is about in the pouring rain?

Me. Stupid me. Stupid paranoid about my fitness me, who thought they could have a 5 mile run or so in gaps between the downpours.

No chance! As I got onto the bike path by London Road Lake, it began to rain quite hard, which didn't bother the ducks, grebes and all but grown up Coot chicks. By the time I entered Beacon Hill reserve by the lower entrance, it was thundering and the rain was coming down like the wrath of Odin or some other divine hammer wielder. None of the usual multitude of bunnies were out, no birds, no butterflies, just a brain dead runner in an exposed place in the highest part of town as the thunder rumbled. Smart smart smart!

The only colour in the grey were the Ragwort and the Thistles.