RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING ON MY HEAD

In my experience, Guernsey’s at its best during the months of spring and summer, whilst autumn and winter here can be pretty dire.
When spring and summer deliver their potential there are few better places to be.
Guernsey, however, suffers one huge disadvantage. It’s within the British Isles and is thus subject to British weather.
This means that summer doesn’t always provide sunshine, but instead treats us to constant rain and gunmetal skies.
This July, in particular, has proved a huge disappointment to those who, like myself, relish the sun's warmth.
Here’s a short poem about the British preoccupation with weather and the way that we employ it as an opening gambit in many of our conversations.
Here, too, is a picture, taken between downpours, of our garden at Bordeaux in all its summer glory.  

Garden designed, created and nurtured by my wife, Jane.     Photo by Shaun Gourley.

WEATHER

We talk to strangers, we British,
about the weather.

It’s what we call
a neutral subject.

It seems that there are
endless permutations:
countless ways to say
nothing of importance

while things that should be said
or might be said, remain unsaid.

A sadness, perhaps?

Oh well, at least it’s not raining.