I never moan about the weather – raging against that which is out of my control seems a monumental waste of time and effort.  But the dead bird in my garden, pooled in a puddle, the sogginess of everything, the rain stabbing in on the east wind -all feels a bit much. I forget that this time of year seems never-ending greyness and cold. Even the snowdrops fail to cheer me. Time to draw the curtains, curl up in front of a log fire with a glass of wine and watch The Good Wife!

Bad weather overload