I spent a lot of time this week standing around town blinking very rapidly as Joe and Geraldine Public hurried past. It was a neat effect, like flicking through a clothes catalogue that was not only Autumn/Winter but also Spring/Summer. For the weather has turned (or has it?!?) and no one knows what the hell to put on them. In the same place at the same time you see t-shirts and scarves, sunglasses and mittens; some dressed for the beach and some dressed for the peak. How we relish those brief periods during the day when our choice is proved correct. Slicing through the sunshine in cool cotton while our pal tugs at the thicker of his two jumpers or grinning snugly from the depths of foot-thick coat while he hugs himself against the wind. And how we hate to get it wrong; it’s always a peculiar shock to the system when you find your clothes at odds with the weather. You thought you were smarter than that. You thought you knew a nice day when you saw one and this wasn’t (or was) it. Clear skies, sunshine – dress lightly. Grey skies, rain – wrap up. It seemed so simple. And now lookit … Sometimes it’s enough to make you wish you lived in the desert or on the tundra where life, hideously complicated in any event, is simplified in at least one regard. Mind you, they say the people reflect the climate and we’re probably better off being moody and changeable. Or are we? How should I know? Ah, feck off the lot of yiz.