This morning I dressed for winter.
The skies were overcast, and rain was drizzling down, unrelenting. It was as if the weather had no regard for the fact that it is mid-August, and thus, on all counts, the middle of summer.
Alas, I pulled on jeans and a jumper and ambled off to work.
The day passed, and I gave no more thought to Britain’s cruel and taunting weather systems. I stepped out of work none the wiser, but ho, BLUE SKIES were there to meet me.
I dashed back out to our rural abode, and we did what we always do, and took the pack out for a walk.
The only interruption to the tranquillity of the Somerset countryside was the determined parping of my mother’s wellies. With every second step, the most almighty farting noise would escape from what she claimed were her aged rain boots.
Birds were singing, grasses rustling, and lo, the trump of rubber on rubber.
The perfect way to unwind from work, no?