It was raining in Norwich when we left for the beach today for a late lunchtime walk, but it was warm and sunny when we got there. It can sometimes go the other way:
extract from Along Came Dylan
We got caught in such a storm out at the furthest point of our walk one (summer) night that I had to drive home wearing only my pants and a spare bomber jacket that I had accidentally, and fortunately, left in the car. My strides were so wet that when I pulled them off and held them in front of me the legs continued to leak like downspouts, and I could actually pour water out of my boots. We’d jogged back to the car in a group, Ollie and Dylan staying close beside me, repeatedly attempting to shake the rain off themselves and repeatedly looking at me as if it were my fault. Couldn’t I make it stop? What was the point of me? At the car-park they leapt into the back of the estate where they sat slicked like a pair of seals. Dylan blinked water out of eyes which were wild in astonishment at both my stupidity and the weather itself. We had all run harder as the finishing post came into sight, and it was Dylan who had put the most effort into tying to dodge the individual drops of the downpour. Ollie glowered at me. How many times do we have to go through this Master; how many times do you need to be told: you wouldn’t put a dog in weather like this.