The English obsession with the weather is something of of a standing joke.
Wherever us British natives travel in the world, however halting our attempts to communicate, very often when our nationality is confirmed, the conversation changes to the weather, to descriptions of a country enveloped in Victorian London smog with grey, rain washed pavements and long days spent sitting forlorn staring through raindrop smeared glass.
Being woken this morning by the insistent thrum of heavy rain, it’s a reminder that summer is waning, giving way to Autumn. The hedges are thick with blackberries and there’s a certain joy in hunting out the waterproofs, collecting logs and starting to prepare for winter, cooking and eating with friends and slowing down after the frantic excitement of the Summer Holidays.
The weekend is a precious time – and a reminder that in slowing down a notch or two, it’s possible for even the most mundane trip to become something of an adventure Continue reading