People, it would seem, are never stuck for something to talk about ... if all else fails, let’s talk about the weather.
Recent weeks have not been exactly summer holiday material.
Parts of the country had a month’s expected rainfall in 24 hours and everyone has got a drenching at some point.
But is that worthy of everyone’s conversation?
From what I remember of my dabblings in meteorology while studying A-Levels, everyone in the UK should expect a varied climate.
Living on a big island brings with it certain weather dynamics.
For us, living in the shadow of a big hill brings a few more.
I was born in Nelson and it must have been raining that day for ever since I seem to have been followed around by my own personal cloud.
On my first visit to a Greek island they recorded August rainfall for the first time in four decades.
On my only visit to Africa, it rained in January for the first time in living memory.
In other words, if you see me walking towards you on the street, check you have your brolly with you as I really should, it appears, have been born with webbed feet.
I have spent my entire adult life either playing or watching outdoor sports.
I still spend as much time outdoors as I can and farming genes running through me from both sides of my family probably help my tolerance to the British weather.
Now I am not for a moment suggesting I enjoy walking through torrential rain, having my hat blown off by 80mph winds or my bald pate pelted with horrible hailstones.
Clearly, like the majority of others, I would much prefer some sun on my back and a light breeze to cool my brow.
But I know enough about the Great British Summer and our own Pendle Hill-induced micro-climate in this part of East Lancashire to know we don’t have wall-to-wall sunshine from May to early October.
Never have, never will.
But to quote my favourite observational comedian, Billy Connolly, there is no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes”