What a difference a few weeks make to my perspective on rain. The end of March and I was sick of the sight and sound of yet another Atlantic low blowing in yet another shed load of rain.

Two months on and I’m lying in bed with the window open, listening to the steady wash of what I think of as summer rain. No wind to speak of, unhurried, thermodynamics and gravity. My response is entirely different.

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Mum has only a few months to live. It’s been confirmed. It’s a relief to know for certain. The priority now will be her comfort. To see her as much as is feasible.