OK. Confirmation that it really is rather wet.
A knock at the door this morning. Opened it to a right motley crew.
I'm used to the Beaker Fertility Folk straggling in, soaked and sheepish, after being caught in the rain. But this was different.
The Wodewose and his assorted talking rabbits and squirrels. Several fauns. Hern the Hunter and the Piper at the Gates of Dawn. All drenched. Who knew pagan folk-memories could get trench foot?
They're in the Great Hall, drying out. Incredibly we're still lighting the fire. Gave the Beaker Folk a right shock when they wandered down, seeing that lot huddled round the hearth.
Anyway, they're comfortable so we'll leave them there while we Pour Out Beakers in the Moot House. Not much point celebrating outside. You'd not be sure whether the insides or outsides of the Beakers were wetter.
Despite the weather, though, I'm gonna have to open the windows once they've all gone. You'd never believe the smell of damp Wodewose.