Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day.

Well, today it has rained. Finally. But, now I miss the sun. I miss waking up on a morning and groaning because it's sunny. Again. I miss the stifling heat. But, I suppose I can't complain. It's clearing the air, and soon we'll be able to enjoy heat without humidity. And maybe, soon, sheep will fly.

Today, for those not in the know, is Friday. On my street, this means something suspicious happens. Number 8 receives alot of visitors. Visitors who park in neighbours driveways. It's most peculiar (Julia). I personally think it's some sort of Jehovah's thing, or some religious cult. My dad says it's just some old woman who cuts other old women's hair. Dad is probably right. Still, we can hope. One just pulled up, and parked in the middle of the road. Well, not in the middle of the road, but not mounting the kerb. It was lazy parking. I judged.

Yesterday, I got bored, so I asked Ruth if she fancied a trip to a park or something. It was agreed that we'd go to Pugney's, but then we decided to go to Bretton Hall Country Park, or the Yorkshire Sculpture Park as it's otherwise known. It was most pleasant, if incredibly hot.

My plan for today was to go to York, and to see Catherine and Davie, and to go to the Jorvik Viking Centre. Alas, my father has gone off for the day, and someone has to stay at home to look after Karen. Typical.