Sleet and snow people. Sleet and Snow.

Our trip home from school today took me back to January. Yes, I say January because that’s when you wear thermals, gloves, hats, scarfs etc not the end of April for the love of everything Vitamin D!!

We haven’t as yet, left the house without our full winter regalia on so far this term and I need some yellow-ness in the sky. The kids trudging through the elements dutifully consider what their walk home six hours later will entail. One of two scenarios I should think: positively tropical and Mum becomes a laden camel carrying all the bags/coats/gloves  or cries of ‘why didn’t you bring the sledge?’ will ring out in defiance at my lack of initiative in our pathetic attempts at pavement Winter sports.

I weep for my wee plants shivering in the garden, waiting patiently for Spring to come along and nourish their roots, enabling them to grow and bloom – therein turning my shrubbery into the Beechgrove Garden rather than how my pitiful back garden looks after regular mad football session’s from Wee C and his Spartans pals.

The radio has confirmed that we are getting high’s of just 8 degrees today – well, I’ll be putting my bikini back into its mothballed ‘Summer drawer’ for the time being then I think.

If I close my eyes I can feel the sun on my face and hear the sound of water splashing as if I were lying drenched with a heat duvet on a sun lounger at the beach, the waves lapping the sand slowly and meticulously re-arranging the grains of sand with every quiet woosh.

Instead, I find myself sitting on the chair beside the standard lamp, sooking in all the energy and glow through my up-turned face. Silently hoping for a weather miracle. It never comes. No matter how hard I try, the sound of the rain battering against the window just isn’t the band playing in the distance while we walk through a sleepy town on the Spanish coast. It’s more like Scotland’s weather systems saying (Billy Connolly style)…’rain, I’ll rain yeh’.