The wind howls, the rain falls. Overnight, the little stream down in the valley turned into a raging torrent . In the garden the newly planted standard roses uprooted from the sodden soil . As for the geraniums ? The less said the better . Just like Caithness in February . Ten days of soild rain and more forecast .Wilf is asleep, curled up , in his little brothers bed . A picture of warmth and happiness . I think of leaving him to sleep on . Wilf has other ideas . The very second the car keys are picked up from the hall table he's on his feet . A touch of rain won't stop a PON from his illicit half croissant . He pauses for a minute or so to blow the cobwebs away ( we're not quite as quick on the uptake as we used to be ) and then the family fellows out of the door and waiting by the back of the car . Old PON's know : ' The spirit of adventure makes for happy lives '.
