As I sit at my desk writing these words, I find myself, yet again, shrouded in near-dark as dark grey clouds gather once more to blot out any signs of the sun, while cold, hard rain batters relentlessly against the windowpane, like some deranged dampire (a damp vampire) desperate to get inside.
But even if it did suddenly rear its tardy seasonal face now, therein lies another problem – the weather has been so remorselessly naff over the last month or so that the grass in gardens has grown wildly out of control and has been so well watered that it’ll take, at a conservative estimate, umpteen weeks of 24-hour sunshine before you can sit without the very real risk of a wet bum. But, hey, that’s nature for you.
