Rain stops play

We were warned of drought, we were promised drought. Dire prophesies of brown, dust-dry gardens, death to all plants requiring even a modicum of moisture, hosepipe bans and helicopters snooping for the telltale green lawn.

Gardeners were encouraged to rip up the grass, lay gravel over membrane and plant all those sun-loving mediterranean plants everyone loved from their sunny holidays.

We were all going to bask in un-English semi-tropical summers and pluck grapes from our arbours.

But it rains.

For the last two years records have been broken again and again for above average precipitation. Flood has followed deluge and blight has followed mould. Sandals and sunglasses have been replaced by wellies and umbrellas.

Those mediterranean lovelies languished and stretched with all that wet and succumbed to winter rot.

The happiest people are the weather forecasters who have a wild glint in the eye and sound of rising glee in the voice as they announce, 'Yet more unseasonal weather'. The rare sunny day is followed by two or more wet.

White skies, drizzle, no ripe tomatoes, an autumnal feeling in July...

Summer? Bah Humbug!