Summer time blues.

The tail end of Hurricane Bertha dumped a couple of inches of rain across the country yesterday and in doing so put a bit of a dampener on the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of small outdoor events that are a hallmark of the English summer. All year people plan village fetes, carnivals, street parties, pram races or the grand unveiling of a tiny community garden and a seat dedicated to Captain Sensible of all people. Most of the time, most of these events go off OK but the British climate combines with the law of sod to ensure that every summer a good few will get well and truly pissed on. No doubt many events were cancelled yesterday but I bet that far more carried on regardless. All that damp charcoal to cook all those burgers on. All that crepe paper and papier-mache dissolving in the rain as hours of fancy dress making washes into the gutter. All those heroic Mums and Dads clinging desperately to a thousand gazebos like so many Zeppelin anchoring German sailors. Is it safe to run the tug o war in all this mud? Bloody weather! But it will be better next year and anyway, have you noticed how the nights are drawing in?  Be Christmas in no time.