Well, the British summer is back. Too cold without a jacket, too hot with one. Yesterday morning I went to the newsagents prepared. I did ponder who looked more ridiculous - the people struggling with their inside-out umbrellas at the bus stop or me in my walking boots and kag-in-a-bag (Millet's version of a pac-a-mac). Yes, okay, probably me but I am sure I was drier.
Yesterday evening had me fooled though. I again went to the newsagents (yogurt and wine) but this time in jeans, t-shirt and sandals. There were blue patches of sky and all was well with the world. Until I got halfway between home and my destination. The heavens opened. And I really do mean the heavens opened.
I spent at least six minutes with an Asian man sheltering under a sweet chestnut. He now knows rather more about English trees than he did before the downpour. He probably also thinks I'm mad. He too was going to the newsagents and he definitely said something about me in Bengali when we entered. I'm trying not to dwell too much on what.