Rain. Again.

It has been raining for months in England, far longer than the 40 days required to float the Ark. At the moment, it feels relentless. There are occasional spells of sunlight when you can feel the mood lighten and sense everyone holding their breath just in case they can make it last that tiny bit longer until –

It feels more like winter rain rather than summer rain. It is chilled and heavy and the sky is, far too often, ominous and dark grey.

I was in Italy, where it wasn’t raining, during the Jubilee celebrations. When I got back, the news was reporting on the English spirit which had pulled out wellies and umbrellas and not let a bit of drizzle destroy the day.

I am not feeling very English at the moment.

Or maybe I am more so.

There is a slight irony that the weather preoccupation for which we are known, nationally, has now given us something to actually talk about. And that the the 2012 “summer games” have been overshadowed by the rain.

There are rumours that the gulf stream is stuck…

And, so, now I find myself writing about the weather, which is kind of dull, but it would be strange to ignore the overriding feature of this year’s summer. And I also find myself wondering how I reached the point of believing that we were divisible, us and the much bigger world around us, when actually we’re totally intertwined.

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