Stayed inside the glass yesterday and thought I’d missed the wicked mist. Couldn’t feel the stuff; that stuff that seeps through clothes, drips from tree and bush, pushes rooftops out of sight and causes most Scots to utter, “It’s not half dreich out there”.
Then my wonderful neighbour arrived with a bag of veg and after our greeting of “It’s not half driech”, he announced he is off to the South of France for the summer, “tomorrow”!
And the mist got thicker as I said, “I’ll miss you”.
So I came inside and phoned a friend, but he didn’t have the answer. He lives nearer the sea than me and after we shared a dreich greeting he said, “I can’t even see the sea, I miss it when I can’t see it.” Then he told me of our dear friend who’d died that morning and we agreed, “He’ll be missed”.
And the mist didn’t miss me and hit the wall.
Aye, it was a dreich day yesterday!