Another week another flood warning issued for the Falkirk area.
As I write this from my desk in the office (shhh, don’t tell the boss, he thinks I’m working on an important report for him) I’m losing concentration due to the rain lashing against the window.
I wasn’t intending to write about the weather - it’s hardly original - but with the type of summer we have been experiencing it’s hard to think of anything else.
My tan that I worked so hard to get on holiday in Turkey has not been flaunted at all, instead legs have been encased in tights and it has definitely been jumper weather.
It’s been a miserable June and July after weather experts told us during the lovely few days we had back in spring that 2012 would be a barbeque summer.
Well, as soon as I heard the boffins predict that, I knew we were in for a terrible season.
Seems like every time they make their long- term predictions they get it wrong. A few years ago I remember them guaranteeing it would be a lovely year so I rushed out and bought new garden furniture at the first peak of sunshine.
Of course, it was the only sunshine we saw that year and the furniture rotted in the damp.
Maybe I’m showing my age, but I truly believe it didn’t used to be like this.
When I was growing up, I seem to remember the school holidays being a long seven weeks filled with swimming in the canal, playing in the woods and pestering my mum and dad for an ice cream from the van.
Every day I wore flimsy summer dresses, and even when it did rain it wasn’t this cold, lashing rain that we are currently experiencing.
I was moaning to my friend Linda about the Scottish summer weather and how it wasn’t like that in my day when she started laughing.
‘‘What a load of nonsense, Kate, you must be looking though the past with rose-tinted specs on.
‘‘Yes, we did go out and play every day in the summer with just wee dresses on but there was plenty of rainy days too - our mums just let us go out and play in the puddles!’’
And with that I remembered that, yes, there had been plenty of rainy days back then too.
The jumping in puddles and hiding under leafy trees to get shelter came back to me.
I remembered coming home wringing wet and my mother tutting me for returning home so mucky.
And with that I knew that I had reached a certain age. An age when you remember everything in the past being better than it actually was.
When I was at school my mother used to say to me that school in her day was more difficult and strict than mine and I caught myself nearly saying that to my grandson Jack this week.
So it’s true - everyone does eventually turn into their mother!