"When it isn’t being remorselessly dull, British weather is just plain weird. When I left work on the train this evening, it was beautifully bright. The low sun and clear air made even the dowdiest buildings shine like jewels. Gradually, as I got closer to my station, the colour drained away and big, fat flakes of snow started to fall. By the time I got off the train, the sky was low and a soft dove grey and I walked into a swirl of dim whiteness. It was like stepping out of the wardrobe into Narnia." [but she's a girl...]

Something like this happened to me today. I was standing in the front garden of a house looking at tree root damage to a wall. It was bitter cold and my hands were aching. I couldn't write any notes because I couldn't stop shaking and the sky had that sullen heaviness that portends something serious. When I got home the sun was bright and cheery. I was sitting at the iMac with the sun streaming in from behind, lighting up the wall in front of me. After a while the light faded suddenly and big dark shadows were falling on the wall. I turned round to see a blizzard. Huge flakes of snow were spinning down and the sky was grey and ugly. Thirty minutes later it stopped, the sun came out, the snow on the ground melted and dried, and it was like an early Spring. God bless the English weather.

9:38:47 PM