There has been a hanging.

I've not used a washing line in ages, you know. The last house I lived at in Bangor had a mild example, but getting to the back garden involved limboing and shimmying and moving things and tetanus top-ups, it just wasn't convenient. Thinking back through the years my mum was always more of a fan of tumble dryers - you know, back before we cared about the planet and microwaves were still cool. Myself, I've always been a fan of that damp smell in the air and you open a window to let the fresh air come flooding through - radiators and racks that go endlessly up and skim the ceiling, hanging so many clothes out that it looks like someone has left a bomb in a Punch and Judy show. That's the way to do it.

I say this as a short preamble - a wee introduction to the fact that I PUT MY WASHING OUT AND IT RAINED.

Later: I pedalo the Serpentine.