Rain and Roadworks

Summer appears to be over for the time being down here in rural East Sussex and the monsoon season has firmly set in. Little dog and I have just got back from her daily perambulation around the block and we are both soaked through. She is now catching up on a few zeds in her basket after drying herself off by rolling around on the front room rug.

We started the morning off by taking Mrs C to work in Royal Tunbridge Wells which is a bit posher than Royal Uckfield and is also legitimately allowed to call itself by the title of royal. Normally this journey takes us approximately twenty-five minutes but not anymore; well not for the next twenty weeks at least.

Today it took us an hour to travel this distance because as we passed Boars Head near Crowborough we hit a traffic jam. It then took us thirty-five minutes to crawl to the head of the queue near Bunny Lane where we discovered a road works sign and temporary traffic lights. Something however appeared to be missing though from this bucolic rural scene and that something was a gang of workmen and assorted machinery who should have been digging great holes in the road.

A cynical person might think that this is just a ploy by East Sussex County Council to slow down and manage the flow of traffic crossing the border into Kent. Or are they just jealous of Kent County Council, who are having all sorts of fun at the moment turning the M20 Motorway into one giant lorry park, by creating their own mini version of Operation Stack on the A26.

After dropping Mrs C off at her work place I decided to find a different route back to the old homestead. In the pouring rain on greasy roads I took my life in my hands on the back lanes of deepest darkest Sussex. Have you ever seen the film 'Deliverance'? Whilst I stayed alert for danger (and more road closures)  Little dog got into the spirit of things by falling asleep and snoring loudly for the entire journey home.

I've spent the rest of the morning baking bread which is very therapeutic. It's a great way of relieving all that pent up stress by kneading and punching back the dough whilst imagining that it is the head of the East Sussex Highways department (makes a change from the Home Secretary). I'm really looking forward to repeating the journey later when I collect Mrs C who upon arriving home will say 'I never eat bread' as she cuts herself a thick slice.