Even we moan about how much we, as a nation, moan about the weather. It seems to be a British pastime and there does seem to be a reason for this: changeability.
We are in the middle of cold snap. When you read this it will be 10 degrees warmer and possibly floods: or not.
The last few winters, since I moved permanently to Harborough, have been very icy and snowy. I loathe the snow: it’s wet, cold and dangerous. Living with my disabled mother who cannot really go out in this weather, cabin fever tends to set in on the third day so I venture (with one of my mother’s walking sticks) down Burnmill Road into town.
The road is gritted so I rather risk traffic than landing on my well-padded bottom on the ice rink of a pavement, however on side roads the pavements are still safer than the car-smoothed ice on the road. My fingers are crossed for the changeable weather to save me from this icy prison!