I love British weather. This is probably a good thing as there is so much of it. You can look out of the window at 6am and dress appropriately for what you see, and then during the course of a day be dressed inappropriately 5 times, and appropriately again 4 times. And that’s just by lunchtime.
As well as providing an endless supply of topics for us to talk about, the weather makes every day just that little bit more exciting. Will I be looking like a drowned rat when I pick Rosie up at 3.20pm, having worn a summery dress as dictated by the clear blue skies I saw before leaving for work this morning and now being faced by ominous black clouds as I leave work at 2.30? Light patchwork quilt or heavy duty duvet for bed tonight? If I book a UK holiday for next summer will I need to pack shorts and tshirts or snow suits?
It keeps you on your toes it does.
It is also incredibly inspiring. I look out of the window, and what I see this afternoon is wildly different from what I saw this morning. This morning late summer sunshine bleached the garden. This afternoon I saw fat raindrops on glossy holly leaves
The lower light levels gave warmth to the ripening crab apples
And I noticed for the first time the ripe plums on the Cambridge Gage
There were also raindrops on roses