But, as I discovered on Thursday, this is the only advantage of such a heavenly lashing.
The storm lasted barely ten minutes, but during that time, more jagged ice fell than was rendered in pixels during all three of the Ice Age films. Windows rattled and guttering shook, and when the icy assault was over, a miniature flash flood washed leaf, branch and litter down the street and away to a horizon of drains.
The consequence? Anything metal like car roofs and outdoor barbecues looks like it’s been visited by Keith Moon’s ghost, my greenhouse has a “strafed by the fury of a thousand Uzis” kind of feel, and my garden gnome collection has been robbed of its pointy hats.
As a protest against The Heavens’ cruellest summer since last year, I’m writing this post in my swimming trunks. Ha! That’ll teach you.
Note: Fans of fiction featuring festoons of frost should take a look here.