Sun, Sky, Rain and Metaphors

I think I'll write a note . .

"You can never spend too much on ebay."

I haven't done so in a while. And here I can ramble without the worry of boring an unvoluntarily person.

The past few days have been a strange few . . the week started brilliant with sunshine and hope and optimism - even at my super-early rising hour of half-past dawn, my attic bedroom was washed in a creamy yellow as I rose unhesitantly at the sound of Joni Mitchell's 'For Free'. On returning from the bathroom forty-five minutes later, the sun happily blinded me without apology from atop the tree-encrusted hills beyond the edge of the town. It was going to be a good day.
And indeed, I was kept engaged on the bus journey by how shockingly beautiful an utterly clear sky can be. If Yves Klein had been obsessed with sky blue I think I'd be able to understand him a little better.
It was going to be a good day. It was going to be better than Thursday when the sun appeared from behind rooftops to surprise the world like a husband presenting a yellow diamond to his genuinely shocked partner.
But it appears that the husband found himself in debt and no matter how much his wife begged for him to keep the diamond he had to sell it. The next day it rained. The sky was yesterday's blue in monochrome. The only view from the bus window was the dusty rafters of the sky. A sky that was reflected upon everything - the pavements and the windows and the roads and the people. Especially upon me. The only reason to be positive was through being thankful that there wasn't too much of a necessity to be inspired - inspiration doesn't flood my thoughts during the continuous wretchedness of an upset sky. Eventually you beg for her to cry heartily, but she will only lie with a pathetic pale face, sighing heavily with single tears dribbling down her cheek.
It's been two days since the sun smirked from the blue and I can still hear the wheels of cars crushing the small puddles that barely patronize the gutters.
I asked for these days to come when I had been bent over the kitchen table sewing an eight metre hem, and to save the sun for when I was lain on grass instead of itching my neck as I pinned the remnants of ermine stoles to the breast of the mannequin. But as contrary as it is, the weather just laughed at me out of sight above the kitchen window, while it slowly baked us inside.
It seems my will-power can deny and accept many things, but it can never ignore the emotions of Mother Nature - she cannot be controlled.
Meanwhile Mother Lesley has been on a three day holiday to Wales (likely related) with her beaux, she sent me a card that arrived today, when she arrived home. She couldn't have chosen a better card to send me - It was a humourous card but I was pleased (more pleased than I let on) that she understood me so well. I've attached it to the note.

Adieu for now.