Well, it happens….
It now may be worthwhile considering various methods of stopping it happening, especially after all the complaints from the neighbours, or, at the very least, adjusting the volume control so that it doesn’t frighten any neighbourhood llamas out grazing at that time in the morning.
Anyway, on to more moister matters, which – this summer certainly – seems to be more or less everything else. Those in positions of power and influence in this country should always remember the weather gods are a cantankerous bunch, never happier than when buggering the weather about and causing us mere mortals to tut when we dare open our morning curtains.
Those of us wise to the ways of the weather knew only too well what a mistake it was to mention the word ‘drought’ in the hearing of the weather gods. Anyone with any sense knew that as soon as we had an official drought, then that was the time to go out and buy some new wellies, an umbrella and to sign up for canoeing lessons.
Now, though, all people can do is sit patiently in the puddle that used to be their downstairs rooms and wait for someone to make it official that the country is in a state of flood in the hearing of the weather gods, so they can go and fetch the hot dry summer they have hidden away somewhere, waiting for just such an occurrence.
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