I taunt them at my peril…
You see, the thing is, I foolishly thought that I could withstand everything the weather gods could throw at me. I’d already been hailed and sleeted on in a particularly unpleasant manner, and we’d endured the hardest winter for a decade, and the worst summer in living memory and we were still standing. We’d had floods, we’d even had a plague of frogs – well, frog – and come off more or less unscathed. What, really, could they do?
Well, it turns out they could do this: a couple of days of gale-force east winds could blow in a weekend’s worth of balmy weather. Blue skies, soft breezes, bright sunshine, warm air, and all the birds and bees and butterflies and blossoms that any self-respecting nature lover could want. Perfect weather, in short, for walking, or cycling, or exploring, or gardening or anything else I cared to do
And absolutely lousy weather for suffering at home on the sofa with a stinking cold.
And I can’t even call in sick.