Every night. Every motherFUCKING night.
Every night I take the Bear out for a 'walk'. It's not a walk. No matter what she thinks. It's an attempt to make sure she doesn't shit in her bed overnight. For the record, my crazy rescue dog from Romania has only done this twice in the whole time I've had her. This makes me inordinately proud. She is so clever.
As I have to get up at arse o clock every morning for the similar privilege of watching her go to the toilet. You have to watch so you can pick it up. It's not a glamorous role, being owned by a dog. Anyway, as I have to get up at arse o clock, I'm tired. I want to go to bed at a reasonable time so I can spend the requisite couple of hours reading/watching shite/doing other stuff. Just stuff, OK? I don't have to tell you everything.
So I like to take her out by 11pm. And every shagging night since she arrived on these shores, it has rained. Every night. I take her out in the pissing rain and beg her to go to the toilet. She looks at me like I'm mental and, more often than not, forces me to take her inside. She does this by bolting for the door and practically ramming her face up against it, like some crazy abandoned orphan dog. I can't refuse her anything so, naturally, she comes in.
And I sit and wait. I wait for the motherfucking cunting BASTARD rain to alleviate enough so that my sensitive pooch will deign to have a piss.
And yes, people have it much worse off than we do on the island. People are living in boats and moving into canoes and shit. I know that. But it's still pretty damn bad down here. Roads are actually disappearing. Pieces of the island are disintegrating before our eyes. And still the rain doesn't STOP.
I moved here on 20 December and we're now on 21 February. Two fucking months of this shit.
I have been a life long lover of winter, grey skies, early darkness and the kind of mizzle that other people seem to hate. The sun used to increase my existential gloom and I perpetually lived within the lyrics of the Stones' Paint It Black. England in the summer is irritating. Everyone dresses badly and acts like they're in a fucking Magners TV advert. It's bogus and fake and very irritating.
I didn't think anything would change my mind on my deep love for winter but this one has done it. I am fucking SICK of it. I'm sick of dressing in sensible fucking cagoules. I'm sick of wearing nothing but running shoes, walking shoes and FUCKING wellies. The last time I wore wellies was at Bestival 2008. Now I pretty much live in them.
I'm sick of being soaked to the skin every time I go out. I'm sick of walking my dog in the rain. I'm sick of the temperature down here barely sinking beneath 10 degrees so what we actually have is warm rain. Warm fucking rain in January and February. What the shit is that about?
I'm sick of sinking ankle deep into churned up bogland if I deviate from any road surface. I'm sick of dodging fallen trees and seeing sandbags everywhere. I'm sick of feeling bad for people who have had their houses ruined and their businesses ruined.
It's shit. And I would like it to stop now.