Cruel Summer

Today was our youngest daughter, Lowri's, sports day.

It should have been yesterday, but, typically, it was postponed because of the rain.

And although the rain held off, the weather was absolute pony. I turned up in short sleeve order and after five minutes of dithering and watching Lowri, also in short sleeves, dither - I decided to nip home and get our cold weather kit. In my absence of fifteen minutes or so, I missed her first two races. She proudly showed me her two 'silver' medals for her second-place finishes as I gave her coat. She was shivering and grateful that I'd skipped across the track with it.

As the afternoon wore on more and more parents, realising their kids were in danger of going down with hypothermia, did the same thing.

As us parents and grandparents sat there freezing our collective knackers and knockers off, the kids performed admirably and Lowri won two 'golds' in the relay. Go Lowsta!!

Back to the weather. If ever I felt vindicated in making our decision to move to Australia then this afternoon was that moment. Earlier this year, as the meteorological experts predicated a baking hot summer, I predicated a summer of self-doubt, soul-searching and personal anguish over our decision to emigrate.

As it happens, things haven't turned out like that; we had a decent start to the summer with some hot days and balmy nights but for the last three weeks it's been dreadful. Rain has lashed this island in monsoon-like volume, causing flooding and misery to many. But for me, whilst I feel for the victims, the weather has helped me, easing the anguish of taking the kids away from their family and friends, justifying our hair-brained notion to move to the other side of the globe.

I'd estimate that the Australian climate compared to Britain's and the lifestyle that climate encourages is the biggest single factor by a long way in us making this move.

Today the weather sucked. Today was a good day.