It's Monday, April 4th. Just look at the number of things in the following that simply wouldn't happen in Glasgow:
It's 7:15am and I'm sitting outside (#1), feeling the gentle warmth of the morning (#2), drinking tea and waiting to see my newly installed lawn sprinklers come on (#3). I can feel the patio is merely warm (#4) through my socks, unlike the veritably toasty it would have been over the weekend (#5). Despite the warmth, a big thunderstorm is gathering (#6 -- no, no, I mean *big*). I start to wonder if it could bring the not uncommon load of golfball-or-larger sized hail (#7), requiring the car to be put into the garage. So I check the weather pages to get ... well take a look at this:
Look at that. An hourly forecast (#8). An *hourly* forecast! Lord Nelson, Lord Beaverbrook, Sir WInston Churchill, Sir Anthony Eden, Clement Attlee, Henry Cooper, Lady Diana, Maggie Thatcher, can you hear me, Maggie Thatcher? Your weather forecast took a hell of a beating!