They say that you can experience all four seasons in one day in Kyrgyzstan.  I have come across this myself in the past.  The mountainous nature of the terrain creates plenty of scope for microclimates in different valleys, varying with altitude, aspect, (North, South East or West facing), different soils creating habitats for differing types of vegetation and so on.

On my recent trip to Naryn over the weekend we certainly experienced two seasons.

The day began, as usual, early, before the sun had even risen.  The overnight temperature was about -15 degrees Celsius, although the Weather Channel told me it was -17, but that was the temperature at Manas Airport, about 40 kilometres to the North of the city, where it is regularly a couple of degrees colder than the city centre in Winter.

Here had been sow and it had settled, although it wasn’t thick.  I was glad that I had decided to dress up warm, with several layers in the “Onion Principle”, although here they talk about the “Cabbage Principle”.  The idea is that the air trapped between the different layers acts as additional insulation.

Even so, my toes felt cold and I wished I had put on a couple of extra pairs of socks.  As it happens, my feet soon warmed up and it wasn’t a problem.

It was so cold that we actually had trouble opening the car doors when we stopped to pick up Tatiana, the accountant.   The diver, on the inside of the vehicle, was pushing whilst I and Tatiana on the outside were pulling as hard as we could.  In the end the lock mechanism gave way and settled down for the journey.

I noticed that ice quickly formed on the inside of the windows and I started thinking about what might happen if we got stuck in the mountains, (for example, if the car broke down or an avalanche blocked the road … however the vehicle had just been checked for the journey and it is not the season for avalanches – not yet – so I put my mind to rest.)

One of the attractions of travelling in this sort of weather is the beauty of the scenery as the snow covers the landscapes.  On this particular occasion, I noticed hw the branches of the bare trees, bereft of their leaves, stuck out like white fingers pointing into the sky, and there were also moments where the sunlight caught on the snow creating a sparkling, glittering effect.

Although the snow lay across the countryside on both sides of the road, the carriageway itself was more or less clear where the weight of passing traffic had not allowed it to settle.  For us, travelling in the middle of the day, it made for easier going, but I could imagine that early morning and late evening, when frost settled in, the surface would be slippery and treacherous.

As we approached Boom Gorge, about 150 kilometres from Bishkek, the snow seemed to disappear.  The landscape was clear, almost as if it was just another Spring day.  It was still pretty cold outside, however, because the valley acts as a natural chimney for funnelling strong winds down from the Issyk Kul basn to the Chui valley below.

It was as we driving through the gorge that I saw another of those strange, esoteric, surreal moments.  There at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, (no houses around, no vehicles parked nearby), were three young people, two boys and a girl, in the middle of the Islamic prayer ritual. Where they came from and what they were doing there, (as I said, in the idle of nowhere), I have no idea.

The landscape remained clear of snow for the next hundred kilometres or so.  Of course, we didn’t expect to see snow on the ground in Kochkor, legend has it that it never snows in Kochkor – some locals claim that it is to do with the abundance of salt in the neighbourhood soils that lowers the freezing point of water and helps to ensure that snow melts almost as soon as it hits the ground.  I have to point out, however, that I have seen snow settled on the ground in Kochkor, and even won two bottles of Cognac on the basis of my scepticism of the local legend.

The bright sunshine almost turned the day from Spring into Summer as far as we were concerned, warm and snug in the vehicle.  However, the ice on the surface of the Orto Tokoi reservoir and the Sary Bulak River gave the lie to this misleading impression.

In fact, the bright sunshine wasn’t everywhere. As we drov along the bottom of some the narrow valleys, we seemed to descend into the depths of the earth as the sun disappeared over the crest of the hills and we were plunged into deep, dark shad … as if we had suddenly entered a tunnel.  Then we would turn a corner, or crest a ridge, and the sun would re-emerge and we would be bathed once more in its bright rays.

Finally, as we approached the highest point of journey, the Dolon Pass at 3025 metres above sea level, the snow, (and Winter), returned and stayed with us all the way to Naryn.  The snow wasn’t too thick, however, and didn’t really hold us up.

I took the GAI to do that.  The GAI are te local traffic police and one of them, standing by the side of the road, waived his baton to us as a signal to pull over.  He approached the car and asked to see the documents, (the driver’s license and the registration documents for the vehicle).  Once those formalities were out of the way he held up the Radar gun that he had in his hand and showed the reading to the driver.  Apparently he had been caught speeding.  Only, he didn’t think he had been speeding … and then he noticed that the time displayed on the gun was different, so he wasn’t going to pay an “on-the-spot” fine. It took a long while to sort out the formalities before we could proceed on our way.  (That’s a problem waiting for him to face when he returns to Bishkek).

Thatdelay was one reason why it took us longer than usual to get to Naryn, but careful driving to take account of the weather and road conditions was another.  Anyway, we eventually arrived and decamped from the vehicle, ready to set about work, preparing the annual returns – but that’s another story.

The skies above Naryn were covered in cloud.  It covered the tops of the mountains that surround the town and the sun was visible only as a large, bright spot through the haze.  Oddly enough, for the town known as the coldest town in Kyrgyzstan, it was relatively warm – just minus eight degrees Celcius.

I wasn’t going to need those extra socks.

In fact the guesthouse was quite warm.  A light snow was falling outside, but inside we felt comfortable and snug.  What was odd was that the radiators were just luke warm – not piping hot and certainly not too hot to the touch … so although the staff had stoked the boiler the warmth wasn’t just down to the central heating.    To be honest, it was probably the most comfortable and snug that I have felt up there in winter ever since we opened in 1998.

That night the light snow kept falling.  The news in the morning told us that the overnight temperature in Naryn was minus eight, whilst in Bishkek it was minus eighteen.  I was glad that we were in Naryn.

When it came time to leave we could see the new snow lying on the ground … there was a brilliant whiteness all around.  In fact the snow continued all the way over the Dolon pass, down through Sary Bulak all the way to Kochkor.  The driver chose to take the by-pass and not drive into the village, which was a pity because there was so much snow on the ground all the way up to the outskirts and I was looking forward to the possibility of being able to claim another bottle of cognac.

Once past Kochkor, however, the snow disappeared and in Boom Gorge there was none to be seen.  It was still pretty cold, however, as a result of the strong bitter winds that were blowing.  The roads were clear of snow all the way back to Bishkek and we made good time.

It was definitely colder in Bishkek, however, and, once again, my toes began to tingle.  Perhaps I was going to need those extra socks after all.

One morning in October 1987, I woke up at six o’clock as usual, had a bite of breakfast and got into my car to drive to school.  As I emerged from the garage, I got a bit of a shock – there was absolute chaos everywhere I looked, high winds, branches of trees all over the place and rubbish blowing everywhere.  As I drove to school meandering in and out to avoid the fallen trees lying across the road I wondered what on earth could have led to this mayhem.  I turned on the radio in the car and heard for the first time reports about the hurricane force winds that had swept over Southern England and Northern France in what is now referred to as the Great Storm of 1987.

I had slept right through it.  Whilst others had apparently been cowering with fright at the howling winds, I had been safely tucked up in bed, sleeping like a baby.  I had even missed Michael Fish’s famous unfortunate “blunder”:

Earlier on today, apparently, a woman rang the BBC and said she heard there was a hurricane on the way; well, if you’re watching, don’t worry, there isn’t, but having said that, actually, the weather will become very windy, but most of the strong winds, incidentally, will be down over Spain and across into France.

He claims that he was actually referring to the situation in Florida, where a hurricane system had been building up but had yet to make a definitive appearance … which might sound a bit like trying to fudge the issue until you consider his next remarks, which are cut out of the replays and clips on you tube, warning viewers in the UK to “batten down the hatches”, saying it would be “very windy” across the south of England, but predicted that the storm would move further south along the English Channel and the British mainland would escape the worst effects.

This incident came to mind because last weekend the weather forecast for Bishkek had warned that after a few days of fine weather we could expect snow on Thursday.  As it turned out, they were correct.  Wednesday saw rainstorms and a distinct drop in temperature, and although the day started relatively clear on Thursday, by lunchtime we saw flurries of snow, with large flakes floating to the ground.  It didn’t settle, however, although it did turn bitterly cold – so much so, that I even went looking in the chest of drawers for my long johns.

All this made me wonder about how accurate the weather forecasts usually are.  Here, in Bishkek, they do seem to be quite accurate most of the time, but I have seen at least two surveys which seem to indicate that weather forecasts are, generally, not as accurate as you might think.  Forecasts for the next day turn out to be about be between 50 and 60% accurate – i.e. about half the time they got it wrong.  Longer range forecasts are even worse – five day forecasts coming in with an accuracy rate of about 25-35% of the time – i.e. they get it wrong about two days out of three.

Several different forecasting services may vary in their predictions – even thought they are all based on the same basic data.  Although there is one Russian service that seems to me to be quite “accurate”, I tend to look at the weather.com site, whilst others at the BBC or CNN forecasts.

In the case of longer range forecasts, the predictions get frequently updated as more information comes to light.  A seven day forecast may change some 7 or 8 times in the week, as it becomes a six day forecast, five day forecast, and so on.  As one meteorologist has put it: “We have no idea what’s going to happen [in the weather] beyond three days out.”

All this, of course, raises questions about what we mean by “accuracy”, but it helps to create a great admiration for those who managed to predict Thursday’s snow almost a week ahead of time.

Now over the past two weeks we have been facing an ever growing number of predictions, prophecies and forecasts as people watch the unfolding story of the election results.  They were supposed to be published by the beginning of the week but, at the time I am writing this, almost two weeks after the election, we still don’t have a set of definitive results – so we don’t know how many seats each party will have in the new parliament and who will occupy them – yet alone which parties will form a coalition to provide the government and who will become Prime Minister.  There have been calls for the Election Commission to try and speed things up, but they are taking things very seriously and in the light of the problems and furore, (I am tempted to say debacle), over the definition of the five percent threshold, I can’t say that I blame them.

What’s more, some parties are still campaigning for recounts – mainly by parties who didn’t make the threshold, or for the election results to be declared null and void – mainly by groups  opposed to the “nationalistic” Ata Jurt party that managed to garner the largest number of votes and contains many people associated with the former regime of President Bakiev, and even for the election to be re-run – which almost everyone else seems to be agree would be a total disaster.

Some of these calls are accompanied by protest meetings and rallies.  Those opposed to Ata Jurt have organized a number of rallies in several places around the country … including here in Bishkek, and supporters of Butun Kyrgyzstan are continuing their protests about the 5% threshold figures being recalculated, including two hunger strikes – although one has been called off.  So far, however, everything remains peaceful.

A more mundane rally was held by minibus drivers to complain over the the arbitrariness of Kazakh customs officials at the border – which can lead to several hours delay as inspections are carried out.

Whenever I asked asked for a prognosis about how the tourist season is going – or what will happen next year – I tend to reply: “Ask me at the end of the season and I will tell you how it was … but don’t ask me to predict something that depends on so many variables which are outside my control and that I cannot predict.”  That’s how I feel at the moment.  I can tell you what has happened – at least as far as I understand the situation, what is happening at the moment – at least as far as I am aware, but I am not going to try and predict what will happen.

After all, many of us were caught unawares by the events in April, May and June; by the successful conduct of a referendum and General election against what seemed to be overwhelming odds for problems disturbing the carefully laid plans; and not to mention by the eventual results of those two plebiscites.

As it happens, as well as trying to prophecy probable, likely, and less likely outcomes about how things will turn out, attention is also turning back to the events of the past.  Enquiries and court cases associated in the disturbances have started – although some of the trials have been put off to a later date, including that of Bakiev’s nephew.  Unfortunately, these are not without some controversy and recriminations being expressed.  Instead of using the retrospection to learn the lessons of history, in order to carve a better future, we we seem to be stuck in the “blame game” and seeking vengeance (in the guise of justice), which tends to lead to vendettas.  This has led to attacks on lawyers representing some of the defendants in various cases which has gained widespread attention in the western media covering the region – and hasn’t gone unnoticed here either.

Bishop: “I’m afraid you’ve got a bad egg, Mr Jones”; Curate: “Oh, no, my Lord, I assure you that parts of it are excellent!”

The cartoon, “True Humility“, by George du Maurier, originally published in the magazine Punch in 1895.

In terms of what is happening now, well … as usual, it’s like the curate’s egg, there are mixed messages – some good some bad.

One of the pieces of “collateral damage” as a result of the events in the South, for example, has been the number of people who have left the region – said to be around 40,000 – and this resulted in a lack of available labour for the gathering of the harvest – especially of cotton.

Then there have a number of announcements made during the week, however, that are not so impressive, not so positive – and indicate that there is still a long way to go – lot of work to be done – before we can say that the situation in the country is really improving.

The Global Competitive Report has identified “corruption” as being the greatest impediment to doing business in Kyrgyzstan, which helped to give the country it’s low ranking – 121st out of 139 countries.  I’m not sure when the survey was carried out, but it would be interesting to know if there has been any change since the introduction of a new government which has tried to implement a more open and transparent regime – or if the issue is still endemic.

(Oddly enough – this week also saw the conclusion of a Bribery case heard in the US – when an executive of what claims to be “the  world’s second-largest independent leaf tobacco merchant” was given three years probation and a $5,000 fine for payments he made to officials during years he spent as a manager in Kyrgyzstan.  It turns out that this was less than he might have expected, because he gave the authorities a lot of assistance in the case and had basically  faced a choice of “either you do this or lose your job”.  I wonder how many people can use that as a defence?)

Kyrgyzstan was ranked 159th amongst the 178 countries included in the “Press Freedom Index 2010″ compiled by  Reporters Sans Frontieres – and it is included in the top three “most dangerous places” in the world to earn your living as a journalist.

Another announcement, this time by the UN, has declared that about a third of the population is still below the “poverty line” in Kyrgyzstan.  I am not sure how they defined “poverty line”, (after all “poor” is a relative term and as Jesus remarks – the poor will always be with us), but it seems to me that the local definition of the “living wage” is extremely low – I am not sure how any family can be sustained on it.

Kyrgyzstan joins Cambodia in the bottom place in the rating of transparency in the national budget which has been published by the International Budget Partnership – whoever they are – in the third of its biennial surveys.  Having said that, there are signs of improvement! In the last survey, back in 2008, Kyrgyzstan also occupied last place, but have almost doubled their score from 8% to 15% – whatever that means!

Life carries on, however.  Roads are still being repaired.  Schools and universities are working and receiving equipment and furniture.  Special events were held to commemorate Breast Cancer Week. A major art exhibition featuring work by a number of young artists from throughout Central Asia has opened in the Historical Museum.  Planes are still operating and flying missions out of Manas Airport – when the airmen aren’t being entertained by visiting performers or participating in local community projects.  The Kyrgyz film “Light Thief” is up for awards in international film festivals.  Doctors are learning new skills to tackle diseases like raging diarrhea. Renovation and reconstruction of properties in the south is continuing – indeed one report refers to Djalal Abad undergoing a “construction boom”.  The water level in the Toktogul reservoir is still rising. A woman saves her daughter from an attack by a wolf.  Bishkek sees Kyrgyzstan’s first sex change operation – apparently a case of genuine hermaphroditism, where the patient had genital organs of both sexes rather than a case of “I was born into a body of the wrong sex” … and that is just a selection of news featured in the press during the week.

During the week I have been involved in a number of meetings to consider the likely prognosis for tourism next year, and what we can do to try and make sure that the industry recovers from the numerous setbacks it has suffered this year.

As I said, I try to avoid making predictions, prophecies or forecasts – but it doesn’t stop me wishing that I had the skill of those meteorologists who so accurately predicted Thursday’s snow.

As an aside: Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister of the UK in 1979 on 35.8% – she got over 40% in the other two elections that she won - so Ata Jurt, at 16%, got less than half of that … however any government involving at least three parties will have at least 38% of the vote.

I suppose that the British preoccupation with the weather is understandable given our changeable climate.  The Irish folksong may well have referred to “Perfidious Albion”, (the phrase actually comes from a French poem written in the late 18th century), but in Russian the most common version of the phrase is “Foggy Albion”.  They seem to have the impression that Britain, (and London in particular), is in cloaked in a permanent fog haze.  Part of this is connected with the interest in the case of Jack the Ripper and the “pea-soup” fogs of the 1950′s before the Clean Air Act was adopted.  For the record – Britain is not usually foggy … and I sometimes get tired of explaining that we normally fog mainly in the autumn months.

It’s also known for it’s rainfall.

It’s true that we do get a lot of rainfall.  Britain is an island and the Gulf Stream current and associated airflows bring warm air and moisture across the Atlantic Ocean and over the country.

Thompson and Thompson, two of the characters in Herge’s “Adventures of Tintin”, (in the original French they were called Dupont and Dupont), caricature the image of an Englishman in typical modern dress: they wear black suits, Bowler hats, and carry umbrellas.  I am not very good at wearing hats … I lose them … I put them down somewhere and forget to take them when I leave.  It’s the same with umbrellas.  As a result I rarely use either.  Often, when I go out and it is raining, I get asked: “Haven’t you got and umbrella?”, and I usually reply something like: “No, I always lose them.  Anyway, why do I need one?  I’m an Englishman and I am not worried by a little bit of rain … I’ll dodge between the raindrops.”

As well as bringing rain, the Gulf Stream makes the climate very variable.  We can have bright sunshine one day and it can rain heavily the next – although nothing like an Indian Monsoon!  As a result. our summers tend to be cooler than those experienced on the main European continent, and the winters milder.  The climate is classified as “Temperate Maritime”.

The Kyrgyz climate, on the other hand, is “Continental” and is typified by hot dry summers and cold winters.

I remember that in my first summer here I found the heat a little difficult to bear.  It was the first time I had ever experienced long periods of continuously hot temperatures, (what I considered to be “extreme” heat – but nothing like is experienced in some parts of the world), often well into the 30′s.

By contrast, the winters can be very cold, (though nothing like the temperatures encountered in Siberia or the Antarctic).  Naryn, where we have a guesthouse, is known as the coldest town in Kyrgyzstan and temperatures have been known to fall as low as minus 40 degrees centigrade.  That winter, my first here, I went to go shopping and walked just over a mile, (just over one and a half kilometres), to one of the main shops and then walked back to the apartment.  When I went to bed that evening I was shocked to see that my legs were red raw.  Over my upper body I had worn a vest (singlet), shirt, pullover, jacket, and short coat, but over my legs I had worn just trousers.  My legs had been exposed to the biting wind and suffered accordingly.  It was a lesson I learned well.  Nowadays, when I go out in the winter, especially up to to Naryn, I always make sure that I take extra clothes, (especially “long johns”), and sometimes wear a pair of jeans over a second pair of trousers!

It’s odd really, because, when I was young I was never really bothered about temperatures.  At school I could wander around in a pullover at the height of summer or in shirt sleeves in the dead of winter.  That might have been because of the mild climate in Britain, or a feature of my contrary nature … I’m not sure.  Now, I am much more careful and attentive to changes in temperature.  I suppose that could be a feature of growing older, or just adapting to a more extreme climate.  Once again, I’m not sure.  Despite this, however, I can still be seen in a pullover in the middle of summer with the sun bearing down on a hot day and in shirtsleeves on a cold, blustery, winter’s day, when it is cold outside.   The reason is quite simple: I tend to get up early in the morning and it is not clear what the day is going to be like, so I think about what it was like yesterday and dress accordingly.  Because the weather is not exactly predictable or consistent, I sometimes get it wrong and get caught out …

We can experience very variable weather conditions her in Kyrgyzstan – just like back in Britain.  It is one of the claims for Kyrgyzstan that its a place where it is possible to experience all four seasons in one day, especially if you travel into the mountains.  In the morning it can be bright and fresh like a spring day, and later the sun can bear down like a hot summer’s day, then it may cloud over and the wind blow up like on an autumn day, followed by a snow storm.  It can make it difficult to know what to wear.  We always advise visitors to bring a sweater with with them even at the height of summer as you never know what the weather is going to do … and when you go into the mountains, it can get very cold, especially at night.

One thing about life here in Kyrgyzstan is the amount of sunshine we get.  When I first came to Kyrgyzstan, I was told that there were 300 days of sunshine a year but that was probably an exaggeration …  one source says that the average is 322 days, but another says it is only 247 days, (now, that is quite a big difference!).  As a former Maths teacher I tend to treat such figures with disdain … how do you define a “sunny day”?  Some of the weather services quote different statistics, (for example the number of hours of sunshine in a month, or the percentage of sunshine, each month), which are perhaps more meaningful but not so useful and attention grabbing as “Headline” figures.

Even if the figures are open to question, there is no doubt that there are a lot of days when the sun shines here in Kyrgyzstan.  Even in the dead of winter with snow lying on the ground, it is not unusual for the sun to be shinning brightly.

Sunshine is usually thought to be a good thing.

For example, we talk about someone, especially our loved ones – our spouse or our children – as being “the sunshine of our lives”

It seems that it is  important for our health:  Sunshine is the source of Vitamin D, a chemical generated in skin which is exposed to sunlight and is important for the maintenance of the body’s organs and the immune system.  A deficiency in Vitamin D can lead to a number of disorders such as Rickets in children and weak bones in adults.

Also, sunshine seems to be important  for our happiness and well being: It seems that sunshine is important factor in making us feel happy.  At least, a lack of sunlight is considered to be one of the primary causes of “Seasonal Affective Disorder”, (appropriately abbreviated as SAD ), which can bring on severe mood changes and depression in people. The disorder occurs mainly in the winter and is markedly  more  – and is also known as Winter depression or the “Winter Blues”

On the other hand, sunshine also has its drawbacks.  Many people find direct sunlight too bright for comfort and wear sunglasses, peaked caps or visors.  Cars often have darkened windows.  When I do sit in the sun, (possibly sunbathing – but probably not), I find myself squinting when I am trying to read a book, (When I do sunbathe, I like to read because it helps me to feel that I am not wasting my time).  Indeed, looking directly at the sun can cause permanent damage to the eyes, which is why you are not supposed to look directly at an eclipse of the sun.

Sunshine has also been linked to types of skin cancer, even sunburn can lead to inflammation.  I have vitiligo – a skin disorder which causes the loss of pigment in the skin and results in pale (and sometimes purple) patches of skin appearing.  Most people who develop vitiligo do so, apparently, in their youth – before they are twenty – but, to be honest, I can’t remember when I first noticed it.  For young people, especially, it can be quite worrying but I’ve never been concerned about it … it isn’t very marked, (the most notable sign is the dark brown rings around the eyes), doesn’t hurt and I have never been all that worried about my appearance and being one of the beautiful people.  Also, the people here are not worried about it, it is not seen as a stigma as it is in some parts of the world.  One thing I am conscious of is that the pale skin, because it lacks pigmentation, lesions can develop and are more prone to develop skin cancer.  There are various ways to avoid this.  The Australians used to have a “Slip, slop, slap” campaign:  “slip on a shirt, slop on sunscreen, and slap on a hat”.  My doctor tells me that I should always be careful when I go into the mountains in the summer – for example, up to Naryn – and to always wear a hat.  However, as I said, I am not very good at wearing hats … I lose them.

Normally, people from colder countries, (like the UK), tend to prefer sunny climates and avoid the shade.  They sunbathe a lot and like to get a tan.  Personally, I don’t really like sunbathing, it seems such a waste of time … as I said, I usually read a book while others lie back and soak up the sun’s rays.  In hotter countries people try to stay in the shade and stay indoors in the middle of the day when the sun is at its strongest.

They also seem to appreciate rain.  I am often surprised to hear comments from locals like: “I love the rain”.   Despite what I said above about changeable weather conditions and experiencing all four seasons in one day, we don’t really get that much rain here in Bishkek during the long hot sultry days of summer.  As a result, a shower can freshen things up and cool things down, and in that way it is a pleasant thing.  It’s also good for the plants, the fruit and crops that need water to grow.

In recent times it has also been important for another reason.  The mountains of Kyrgyzstan are home to a number of Hydro electric power stations – dams holding back extensive reservoirs.  The first reservoir constructed in the country, (the Orto Tokoi reservoir, just outside Kochkor), was built for irrigation purposes, not hydroelectricity, but many of those subsequently but were for generating power.  Indeed, after almost 18 years of Independence, there are now plans for even more, massive, power plants to be constructed in the near future.

The largest reservoir in the country is behind the Toktogul Dam which controls the flow of the River Naryn and generates much of the country’s electricity output.  Unfortunately, in recent years the level of water in the reservoir has been falling, and this was made worse by the very cold winter in 2007, which led to a over the last winter (2008/9) there wasn’t enough water in order to maintain production art the sort of levels the country needed.  It was clear there was a serious problem fairly early on because there was an official announcement that the “plan” for replenishing the water levels in the reservoir hadn’t been fulfilled.  Plans here are always fulfilled.  It was a feature of the Soviet Centralized Planning of the Economy.  The plan was all important.  It was always fulfilled.  So an official announcement that it hadn’t was quite an admission.

Anyway, as a result we faced a winter of rolling power cuts.

This week, the forecast is for rain nearly every day … light rain and showers … which will please quite a lot of people and be good for the crops, and the reservoirs … and, people keep joking about how it will help to remind me of home.