Before running to the nearest coffee shop to find a cosy corner, though, spare a thought for fluffy sorts stuck sitting outside – like this rain-drenched sheep, spotted hunkering down in Marlborough.
With no shelter going spare in its petite field – found a surprisingly short walk away from the high street (bustling, even when the heavens are open) – this woolly creature (and its soaking pals) had no choice but to tuck away its legs and hope for some sun.
Admittedly, its coat is likely far finer than mine at fending off falling drops, but that didn’t seem to be doing much to lighten its mood, even as I offered consolatory bleats from the other side of the fence.
As I wandered off towards the literary cornucopia that is the White Horse Bookshop, I pondered on the poor fauna of that field, getting soggy as I sought somewhere less saturated.
“Miserable weather for sheep,” I thought. Absent-mindedly, I opened the weather app on my smartphone. Dry from tomorrow, it told me. Clear skies and 21°C for the rest of the week.
“Miserable weather for sheep.”