Weather girl......

The dull mist-cloud hangs low over north London, it claws it's way through my black, shower-proof coat making me feel damp. I absolutely hate these top-heavy, cloud-sky days which is tough living in England. But, as they say, we didn't come here for the weather.

However, the weather has gone really weird, sort of extreme spring, well definitely in London. On the phone a friend exclaims:

"I'm soaked, did you hear that thunder?"

A couple of miles away I peer out of the window at the wispy cloud and pale sunshine.

And then there was the hail, huge if you saw it, not if you blinked.

The blossom on the trees outside my window is blooming pale pink and white, heralding the summer, carpeting the the street in petal snow, so strong is the breeze.

The tulips in the yard, cerise and cherry-red, bob and bow like so many Japanese, kimono-clad Geisha, bent by the hard showers that hit like mini monsoons.

The flowers have burst bright, first parched, then quenched, now drenched. And its cold.

I layer cashmere with wool under coat and scarf and sunglasses. An hour later I am hot. Then I'm wet. Then freezing. At half past six the sky is blue, I buy white wine, sun-kissed tomatoes and olives. By half seven I want to drink red. The heating goes back up to Bombay.

I shall be spending next weekend in a Yurt, not in some far-flung, hot tropic or perched on the Mongolian Steppe, but instead somewhere in Sussex. Why?

Top tip: 30 Rock is back..... Comedy Central 10.30pm Friday, another good reason to stay in