How very British
In the traditional approach to a British summer, a mixture of hope agianst hope for sunshine and yet acceptance of the inevitable rain, we found ourselves sat outside the pub last night. Wearing our lightest summer jackets, we were drinking pimms for the girls and pints of bitter for the boys, as the rain poured down onto the awning above and the local tramp shouted obscenities at us, whilst we politely ignored him and talked about summer holidays in the south of France. All that was missing were some cucumber sandwhiches 
More excited than I should be: about the start of Big Brother this evening
This weekend I am mostly: going to Manchester
It’s officially: Pimms o’clock 