The Only Forecast Worse…

…than the one which stubbornly refuses not only to correctly forecast the rain, but even to acknowledge that it is raining at all, is the one which correctly forecasts the fact that it will be hosing it down just as you are at the furthest point from home, and which you decide to ignore because, well, I’m not entirely sure why I ignored it, now I come to think of it. Probably because it’s been so wrong and so variable in the past that the one time it decides to be bob on, I no longer believe it.

Oh and ASBO buzzard decided to have a go at me again as well. As if I needed anything else coming at me out of the sky.

Having got home and got dry I was still pretty chilled and we ended up lighting the fire this evening. Summer, eh? Remind me why I moved to Scotland …

I suppose that’s what I get for attempting to enjoy what the weather gods throw at me.

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3 Responses to The Only Forecast Worse…

  1. charles says:

    The definition of middle age is always taking a sweater , or cardigan, with you just in case. Surely the sane scottish cyclist shoul;d always have a handy scrap of gortex in their bike basket, or is this too sensible for summer?

  2. disgruntled says:

    I was wearing my waterproof jacket and magical tweed cap – I’m not daft. Doesn’t make riding in the rain any less unpleasant though

  3. Charles says:

    Speaking of rain the barn we are looking at in Somerset has one toe in the levels….lovely pictures of surface water flooding in high street but not winter flooding for months. Time for aloof Londoner to cast of his inhibitions and get gossiping.

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