So Devon, yeah? Glorious morning it was too, full of this:
But then, we left Devon to drive back to the heathen wastelands of London, and suddenly all was this:
We were literally driving into walls of cloud that were feeling really down and dejected about their lot in life, and had slunk down to prowl around at ground level, listening to The Smiths and blowing themselves away with hairdryers. It made the drive back a little unnerving for MrJRME, who was trying to deal with the perverse and wrist-breaking positions of the light and windscreen levers in our new car whilst wiping away tears of mirth from listening to old Adam and Joe podcasts.
But A+J can wait for another day. Even though we weren't out on the wild and windy moors, even though we were in the wrong part of the country, it still reminded me of Wuthering Heights and thus, Alan Partridge. Can't find a clip of the actual show, so you'll have to just remember its majesty ("Sweet feet!") and make do with this slightly cringey Comic Relief effort. Then go and watch the whole series of The Trip and Mid Morning Matters and decide Steve Coogan is a bit of a genius.
Kiss my face!