I am loath to mention any complaint about good weather, but the last few nights have been on the borders of unbearable. Sleep has been difficult, even with a fan in the bedroom, and we have both had unsettled nights; disturbed by the fan, or the cold around dawn.
Tonight is supposedly the last night of an uncomfortably hot spell. We have been enduring high night-time temperatures, in excess of 20 C. There are heavy storms predicted for later, after 2am, with the chance of torrential rain, hailstones, and localised flooding. Of course, this is situation normal for many parts of the world, but a rare occurrence here.
After a few days of very humid conditions, problems sleeping, and uncomfortable days, the change should be welcome. However, in a very English way, we almost resent the arrival of rain, necessary or otherwise, and cling on desperately to those rare summer days, whatever the dangers of precipitation, and lack of sleep.
It’s a very English thing. We always want the weather we haven’t got. Then when we get it, we wish we had something else instead. I can see how this might be contrary, but I am English, so consider it perfectly normal.