It's safe to say I've never wanted to kiss a man as much in my life as I did Bridget's dad, John, when he turned up holding a pair of size 11 wellies from Bunnings. Apparently he had to fight off ravening hordes just to deliver them into my sodden little fingers. With two pair of socks, they fitted nicely. I've also discovered that it's possible to dry socks using those odd little toasting devices for stoves. Despite the smell and the constant need for vigilance (socks with brown crust singe-holes are not a good look!)
Odd thing is it looks like the rain is easing now. Bloody typical!
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