Washed-out logic.

Living on the south coast of England, you tend to get a wide variety of weather, although our little part of it tends to be a little drier than most. That said, the most reliable way to get some rain onto your poor, dehydrated gardening is to do this:

It's an almost foolproof plan, isn't it? The minute you get back inside and put your feet up with a cuppa, you'll hear the first few drops of rain on the window. At that point, you have a couple of options. You can either sit it out and hope that those few drops are all that will appear, or you can dash outside and grab everything off the line and bring it back in.

Naturally, either of those choices will be wrong. If you wait for even a couple of minutes, you'll be looking at a downpour. On the other hand, if you dash out, grab the washing and put it into the tumble drier, it's pretty much a dead cert that the rest of the day is going to be cloud-free and scorching hot.

You may think that's somewhat cynical of me, but Julie is basically of the same mind. Our logic then runs like this; if it stays dry, great. If not, then the clothes get an extra rinse. Fair enough, right?

However, logical as this idea is, Julie still managed to throw me one day. It had been threatening rain all morning, so it was a bit of a risk to put the clothes on the line. Julie applied our logic though, and began to hang it out. Meanwhile, I pottered around the kitchen, making us a cuppa. Suddenly Julie sped up, dashing in and out of the kitchen. Bemused, I asked if she was alright...

Um... What?