It is that time of the year when the greyness of the British climate really hits the New Yorker in my life hard. For the past few days we have been surrounded in a thick fog that seems to clear to allow the drizzle in.
Light drizzle is the Schrodinger’s cat of weather, you both need and don’t need an umbrella and as soon as you make your choice you’ll decide it was the wrong one. If it is going to rain I would prefer it to pour. I want a torrent of water cascading from the skies, it should be drumming on the windows, and most importantly I should be inside.