English Weather and her Mood Swings

I am still recovering from today’s Dog walk – cum – Armageddon.

Dog and Husband are equally traumatised, Dog cowering under the table and Husband nowhere to be seen (gone missing, presumed lost in the garage).

It’s the weather, see?

We went out wrapped in windbreakers (Dog with tail firmly between her legs so it wouldn’t get torn away from her bottom). It was blowing gales. Trees were swaying like drunken sailors.

Halfway through that ordeal the sun came out in full force, carrying a frying pan and a spatula to fry us alive on both sides. We had to strip to our bikinis. Dog sought solace in a stream and valiantly fought fish, frogs and other dogs for Lebensraum.

No sooner did we emerge from the fields and onto the beaten track than the rain came down on us like a ton of wet bricks. We arrived home to rescue washing from the line, which we had hung up in a robust breeze accompanied by spells of sunshine. Needless to say, the washing had to be tumble-dried.

The damned climate change is more changeable than I anticipated. I am joining Extinction Rebellion.

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