On Friday it was wet.
Everyone I spoke to seemed miserable. Bemoaning the grey damp cold. The end of summer. The inevitable decline of the weather.
After work, I went out for tea.
I had a nice, albeit incredibly garlicky, meal with some old work colleagues. We went to El Torrerro on the Side.
The Side is a very slopy street. It was pouring with rain when we left. Streams were flowing down towards the river.
We laughed and splashed and sang our way back to the car park.
This was the view from my car window as I waited at the top of Dean Street to go home.
Saturday was even wetter. Rivers burst. Morpeth flooded. I wondered if our car was going to wash away.
This was taken this morning. Sunlight through the trees.
It was a beautiful autumnal morning.
I've been hearing rumours of an Indian summer.
I didn't believe them, not at first.
But maybe, after the sunshine this morning. Maybe I can.
And I can always hope.