Rainy days

(The Met office were wrong again)

February blew away

(They haven’t found her to this day)

March, April, May was much the same

Mud slides, derailed our Easter trains.

June, July, August was all monsoons

Our plans for the summer lay in ruins

Tho’ some escape to Italy or Spain

Where locals there think ‘Brits’ are insane

When it’s time for an afternoon siesta

The mad dogs and the English sit ‘n’ blister.

Then fall back to September’s April showers

Autumn rain puts paid to August’s flowers

October’s harvest crop was such a flop

Sandbags blocked the houses, schools and shops

November and December

I’d rather not remember

But no one’s dreamin’ of a wet Christmas

This rotten weather wrecks Santa’s business

And all year long the cows lie down and cry

A bolt of lightnin’ splits the sky in two

And another British year begins ‘anew’

Paul Stephenson,

Simonside