It smells like rain

You know, there's really no point consulting Meteo France about the day's weather. You might just as well stick your head out of the door and go 'hmmmmm' in an enquiring way, and dress accordingly.

Over my tea and Today I decided, for once, to consult the weather on France's official weather site where you have to pay for a 4-day forecast. Well, if today's was anything to go by, they should be paying us to consult the weather seeing what a hash they made of it, and at an update of 7AM, really they had no excuse for getting it wrong.

At 7AM they said it would be cloudy with a bit of rain. Well, I didn't need a multi-million euro weather station to tell me that; it was cloudy and menacing and definitely a doom and gloom hmmmm day. BUT, oh joy, it would be sunny and bright in the afternoon followed by a glorious evening. My mind toyed with barbeques and an ad hoc street party, a quick dash to the beach, cocktails around the (non-existent) pool and so on. Actually, I considered putting a rectangle of bright blue plastic on the gravel in the garden so people in aeroplanes think I have a swimming pool. But I digress...

Not only was it cloudy and sultry in the morning but it got cloudier and sultrier as the afternoon progressed culminating in an ear-shattering clap of thunder round about tea time. I collected my eldest in what I was convinced would be a flash flood, but turned out to be just a heavy downpour.

Had I paid for a 4-day forecast yesterday or the day before and planned a crocquet party around the blue plastic rectangle with Pimms and cucumber sandwiches, I would have been less than impressed, I can tell you.

My youngest has just come in wearing one boot and asked if he can go to bed in his wellies. Not if you don't want mushrooms growing out of your toes by tomorrow morning, I said.

I think I'll just stick to the hmmm technique of a morning, and listen undisturbed to the wit and repartee on Today instead of trying to guess the weather.