It's a weird feeling, living in a foreign country long enough for weather patterns to become familiar. Not just knowing what's an extraordinarily hot or cold day. Knowing if this time last year was better or worst than the last, or the last, or the last. Knowing enough to declare a 'good spring' or a 'bad spring'.
This year we had a good winter and a bad spring: Few winter storms, warm sunny winter days, and cool sunny spring days.
Summer is taking its time coming and I'm not complaining. I like bad springs.
I get a little bored of the weather in Malta sometimes (yes, I hate me too). It's all sun, all day, every day, every month, every year. No preparing for snow storms or sharing in the national joy that are the first blooms of spring, the first buds on trees. There's nothing quite like the delirium that takes hold across Canada when there is good weather, especially after the snow melts and every Canadian city and suburb smells like one giant, delicious BBQ. There's such a sense of community about it. Here good weather is just the norm and we all take it for granted.
But! I'm headed to Edinburgh tonight where a proper blast of miserable weather awaits. And, instead of BBQs, I hear they deep fry pizza! A good substitute if I've ever heard one. Hip hip!
The happiest of weekends to you, whatever the weather.