Rainy Days and Flip Flops

OK, I know we're Irish, and we should know better than to expect anything other than this manky stinky weather.  It's the 8th of June, for God's sake.

But surely,  even by our standards, this is, so far, the wettest June ever? 

I suppose it's at least saved me a few quid, namely my annual rush around the city centre buying flip flops  that range in price from the almost free Penney's ones to ridiculously expensive so called designer ones that I'll never get the wear out of.

I buy the cheap ones, I think, because no matter which way to look at it, it's a pair of shoes for a fiver. 

I buy the ridiculously expensive ones because I think they're going to make me look stylish and, hopefully, make my clothes look cool.
It never ever works.  I just look like a person in shapeless clothes with foolish shoes that kind of hurt between the toes

I wonder if the fact that I want to look cool at my age just shows how unspeakably uncool I am?
Anyway, you should have seen the face on me this morning when I had to root my boots out again.  Even my pretty pumps are consigned to the back of the wardrobe.  I know they're pretty pumps because it says so, on the inner sole.

And believe this if you like, but when I was on my way to work this morning the driver's side wiper of my car dislocated itself and was left hanging from its hinge pointing out at the bonnet.  In the driving rain, obviously.  Sure what would be the point of it happening on a sunny day?

If one more person tells me that it's supposed to brighten up tomorrow I will kill them.  I'm not in the mood to listen.  I don't believe it, and I don't want to hear it.


That is all.