I know everyone thinks we Brits are obsessed with the weather, but we do have good reason.
First there was last Summer’s wash out, when an umbrella and wellies became essential fashion accessories.
Then last weekend Spring arrived. On the 9th of February to be exact (the middle of our winter for you Antipodeans).
It was about 12 degrees (in contrast to the normal 3 or 4) and I hacked my horse out across the moors without wearing a jacket.
It was like everyone had gone to bed on Friday night and overslept by two months.
There were 30 or 40 people sat outside the pub coat-less, drinking pints and looking slightly stunned. There was even a queue at the ice cream van. Elderly couples were taking their little dogs for walks across the moors and stopping to say to each other “well its such a lovely day, it would be a pity to waste it”.
It will probably snow next week now we’ve had this tantilising glimpse of sun, but I suppose (to paraphrase Forrest Gump) the British weather is like a box of chocolates – you never know what you’re going to get.