Rain, rain go bloody away and don't come back another day.
We all know soon as they said 'hosepipe ban' that it would be the St Swithin's Day scenario all over again.
I know we expect rain in this green and pleasant land but this is ridiculous. Mind you, suited me to start off with, more in the back of the cab; can't be arsed to walk if it means getting wet can they. But this is beyond a joke - what about golf, my only let off from the constant nagging from her indoors, the delectable Tina. Can't even use golf as an excuse for a swift session at the local. Too bad she knows I am a fair weather Jack Nicklaus.
More's to the point - what about the bloody wedding on Saturday I've forked out my bloody life savings for. Marquee in the garden she says, impresses the neighbours no end. Our Shelley's no oil painting but wellington boots on your nuptials is not a good look on anyone.
Just looked at the forecast, more of the bleeding same. I suppose we'll have to carry on regardless, stiff upper lip and Pimms on tap.
Mind you there could be a light at the end of the proverbial rainbow. If we have a thunderstorm that'll keep Tina away from anything electrical, including the karaoke mike. No more renditions of the oh so appropriate It's Raining Men.
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