Monday, 25 June 2012


I'm sure those readers in places other than the UK are mightily bored of us Brit bloggers going on and on about the weather. We moan and whinge with all the rain, and then get stupidly giddy with a few rays of sunshine, a few degrees more warmth. But we really have had some of the most miserable weather I've ever known in my 31 years on this earth.

The problem with British weather is that it can be so unpredictable. You leave the house thinking the sky looks okay, a bit cloudy perhaps, but warm. And half an hour later it's raining cats and dogs, your feet and the bottom of your jeans are soaked, the wind has picked up, and you're trying to balance an umbrella in the crook of your neck whilst pushing a baby in a steamed up, rainhooded pram. Now I grew up in East Lancashire where it rains all the time. Since moving South, I didn't think I'd have to endure all this rainy nonsense. But it's barely stopped for three months. Three months! So every time the odd ray of sunshine peaks through the clouds, Baby Biddle and I dash out into the garden to get some fresh air and vitamin D. Like yesterday.