Third Course: Dessert à la Sahara

Apparently we have recently experienced weather brought by the whispering zephyrs from the Sahara. Actually it feels rather more like the Mistral than a zephyr. (I have always thought what a lovely name the Mistral is, too nice to be wasted on such an unpleasant weather system, but there we go) It never ceases to amaze me how often we get weather supposedly from nice places, but never feel any of the more useful effects. The Sahara! Sunshine! Dry heat! But do we get any of this? No. We get a thoroughly undesirable blast of dirty sand which leaves a rather nasty residue on every car except mine. (Mine was sensibly residing in the garage and thus escaped Dessert à la Sahara)
This always happens. The weather systems wear themselves out as they travel, and somehow by the time they reach our pathetic little island, all they have to give are the end bits that nobody wants. They deposit, snigger, and move on without hanging about to watch what happens.
Excuse the disgruntled tone of my post today. I feel solarly disadvantaged. I’m sure that’s a recognized medical condition, and if it isn’t, it should be. 

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