Ten words for what is happening outside the window – beyond “nice” and “horrible”. Half of them are what English people actually say every morning.
Monday came in with a so fine you could not see it, only feel it on your face. By Tuesday the sky had gone and stayed that way, a flat grey ceiling over everything. Wednesday was worse: a proper that filled the gutters in ten minutes, then a that dried the pavements before lunch. On Thursday there was on the cars at seven and a rainbow at four, which felt like showing off. Friday the sat in the valley until noon. Saturday was , almost warm, and so that the windows ran with water; the had promised none of it. And on Sunday, out of nowhere, a – and then sunshine, as if none of it had happened.