Deluge

The BH is in Normandy, seeing her Dad, and no doubt appreciating the peculiarly benign (for grass at least) climate of the Véxin. When she left yesterday, heading towards the drizzle and cold, it was sunshine as usual here. But this morning I was awakened not by sunbeams but by sullen thunder, and by the insistent, well actually frantic, drumming of rain on the roof. The rain has lashed down all day, with a violence unknown in Normandy. The lights have been on all day, too. Idem the heating.

Perhaps, when one's thoughts are with one who is in a different clime, the climate of imaginative adoption becomes one's own, and Antibes - in a peculiarly literal interpretation of the intentional fallacy - adopts the weather fronts and temperature gradients of the Seine Maritime.