It's the end of summer again. And people are already worried about its classification. Was it a good one, an OK one, or a bad one? If you can't really immediately judge it, does it really matter? An old couple walking down the pavement in early September. Their every step heavy, weighed down by the worry of the day's weather. They ambled on neither hot or cold and definitely not wet. There was no sun in the sky, yet the clouds were not grey and the breeze was light and friendly. "I bet you'll it'll rain any minute", he said looking upwards shaking his head. "Typical" came a reply half smothered by a loud tut. Yes it's typical; its England, and it isn't some kid breaking your wing-mirror. It's the weather, controlled by whatever controls the weather (probably a magic elf). It's not Tony Blair and Gordon Bran-flakes deciding that they should subject us to rain. The local council isn'tmeeting to discuss the possibility of raising
Contains mild peril