Well, it would be a lie to suggest that it hasn't rained since my last blog. But it's also been lovely - sunny and bright - so it hasn't felt like a rainy spell.
On our walk at the weekend, I noticed the leaves beginning to turn - autumn is moving in, taking things over and dictating the colour scheme. It's probably my favourite time of year.
The dog is at his most chipper when it's crisp and dry. He hasn't much enjoyed the heat of the summer, seeking out dark shady spots in the flat, behind the sofa, underneath the desk or behind the rocking chair. This requires some fancy footwork, as the floor here is littered with manuscripts awaiting consideration or return, review copies of books, and screeds of correspondence which may - or may not - require attention.
He picks his way across the piles, occasionally giving a package particularly close attention - I assume that the sender was eating a biscuit just prior to licking the envelope. Snuffling done, he continues on his way until he finds the space he's been looking for, and he thumps down, as if to emphasise the difficulty of the journey, looking balefully at me from his resting place.
Regular breathing indicates that he's fallen sound asleep, but it only takes a delivery, movement from the flat below or the tell tale whistle of Barney's owner to rouse him from his neuk and head for the door, barking more deeply than a dog of his size should.