Sixty Hours

I live in hope. If you said that in my family when I was a young man you might well get the response "and Caergwrle"  It was one of those silly things that become family jokes.  When we used to go into North Wales from Liverpool where I lived as a child we passed a sign to the villages of Hope and Caergwrle.  Mum and Dad had spent time in the latter village - camping, I assume, although they may have taken a house there for holidays in their early days together.

Oh.  By the way, I live in hope of it stopping raining later this morning as forecast by them that know about these things on the television.   Why?  Because it's now Monday morning here and we have just passed the 60 hours of solid rain mark.  That's a lot of rain.  The soft fruit growers in Hawkes Bay will not be happy as their fruit swells and splits.  The Apple growers and dairy farmers will be delighted.  I'm just irritated by the fact that I can't get out onto the croquet lawns and get some practice for the Nationals which are next week.

Anyway I thought that, instead of harping on about the rain, I'd post some photos from The Rose Gardens in Palmerston North's Victoria Esplanade where I was last week - or was it the week before?  Tempus fugit.