In contrast to that...
I had the delight of a storm on my last camping trip, but today was perverse. I watched the rain ease, I slung on the lycra and attached the panniers, and I shot off to T*sco in the sun.
By the time I have got out of the shop it is hammering down. I have no overshoes. There is a poxy horrible headwind. There are nobjockeys in cars: as I approach a dad-and-small-lad cycling two abreast towards me, both are overtaken by a wankpanzer that causes me to simultaneously brake hard (secondary is full of pot holes) and shout 'Tosser!". Immediately followes, to the 'dad', "No, not you, mate!"
Cold. Sodding nearly May and cold. Hot bath. So, here I am, copy of the new prequal to The Thing ready to watch, glass of wine to hand, but in winter opaque tights and the longest skirt I've got for warmth. And you complain about heat...