Sunshine, sins and rain.

Well, the rain is back. For a brief few days the sun shone and the neighbours and I did what British housewives do when the sun shines: we washed any item of clothing, bedding, towels and so on that was not actually tidied away into its proper place. And we hung stuff out to dry to our hearts content. Last night I even left sheets on the line overnight. 

This morning I took them in, nice and dry, and hung out another load of shirts and socks. Then later, as I set off for Manchester, I had a feeling that the weather was about to turn. There was that suspicious dampness in the air. So I phoned Phil from the bus and asked him to bring everything in before he in turn went out. Alas, by the time he had showered, it had already rained on the washing! Just slightly! To his credit, he did go and get it in. I know some who would have left it to get wetter and wetter as the day progressed. 

Yesterday was one of those sunny days that convince my Spanish-resident sister that England has the best summer anywhere: bright and clear but not oppressively hot. Unfortunately, we don't have whole summers of such days, which is what she mistakenly remembers. But it was definitely a shorts and t-shirt day. I got up early and drove my daughter's youngest offspring to school, in her car, which she is still not allowed to drive until the fracture clinic gives her the OK. I then returned the car to her house and made my way home via short bus-rides and longer intervals of walking along bridle paths admiring the bluebells. And I was still home in time for a late second breakfast with Phil. 

I had hoped that today might be a similar day but the weatherman's gloomy predictions proved correct. Peccato! As the Italians would say. We were talking about "peccati", sins, in the Italian class this afternoon, mostly discussing how an attitude to sin and confession leaves an imprint on the language. One of our number told a joke which ended with the line, "Where In Heaven would you find a lawyer?" The problem, our Adalgisa said, was that in Italian nobody would ever ask "where in Heaven" you would find anything. The expression just doesn't exist. 

I find it interesting though that Italian talks about people having a "vizio", just as the Spanish talk about having a "vicio", for eating too much chocolate, watching soap operas, buying too many books and other such things. We would never say such things were "vices", just "weaknesses". 

But then Adalgisa spoke of having to invent sins to confess when she was a child, varying the sin so that she had some variety in the penance she had pay, the prayers she had to chant out, so that she could take communion. I casually pointed out that I never had that problem, not even before taking first communion. So, she went on, what happened about all the sins and forgiveness? Someone pointed out that our Protestant god was supposed to be all-knowing and so could forgive us without our having to tell him a load of stories. 

She was a little annoyed at her priest who never told her such things! It's a good job we know that she is really aware of all this stuff already!