If there's one thing I love about Britain, it's the weather. Unlike most places, there's no 'dry season' or 'hurricane season', just British season. You genuinely cannot expect anything, be it sun in the summer or snow in the winter. In short, Britain is the meteorological equivalent of a Revel. Unfortunately, we often seem to bite into the coffee one. I say unfortunately because it hinders one's ability to enjoy the outdoors, and it always seems to make people miserable.
Thinking about it further, if we suddenly stopped being the "oh-it's-pissing-it-down-again" country of Europe, what would happen to our lovely outdoors?
A few years ago, we had a bit of a drought. I say drought, I mean it didn't rain for at least two weeks. Anyway, we had a bit of a panic. The reservoirs dried up, the roads began to melt and everyone started trying to wash the car with bottled water. Imagine the chaos if we had a real dry season.
No wonder Zimbabwe's not doing so well.
Regardless of which chocolate-coated delicacy we wake up to each day, it seems in tradition to complain about it. When it's hot, it's "far too bloody hot and look what's happening to my 'taters"; when it rains it's "been tippin' it down all bloody day and I were gonna 'ave a picnic an' all". Let's face it generic irate Yorkshireman, it's our weather that's made this country great.
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