What's that on my face?!!!!

Well, it's certainly not sun. The running joke in these parts is that we wouldn't recognize the sun on our faces even if we saw it. Which we haven't. For, well, either 38 or 43 days according to various local radio stations. Sure, the sun's made a few brief appearances: one beautiful afternoon playing softball, a nice enough evening sitting at an outdoor cafe with my work-mates, but overall, it's been gray, gray, and more gray with rain that regularly lashes out of the sky making my umbrella into an inside out lollipop, totally useless for keeping me dry.

I think I'm going through the five stages of grieving now, and I certainly haven't gone anywhere near acceptance. I'm stuck somewhere between denial and anger. As I was having my daily whinge to Tom about another day of 'Fucking Rain,' he pointed out to me that when you grow up in Ireland, you just don't expect to have summer and that instead of summer, Ireland has beer. hhhhhmmmmm. Not a good enough trade as far as I'm concerned. As far as the weather goes, I've been drinking a lot more tea to cope than beer. My teeth are probably going to turn yellow and fall out. Either that or my poor over-caffienated heart is going to give out. Maybe I should switch to beer. Better a belly than heart palpatations... ;)

Yours in wet wellies,
D.