I read somewhere that it's all the fault of El Niño.

Which refers to the effect on our weather caused by a change in - of all things - the temperature of the surface of the sea in the western Pacific Ocean. We are being told that it is El Niño that has to take the rap for all the shitty weather we have been cursed with recently.

I must admit that I can't remember a more wintry May, it is more reminiscent of January or February. May has always been one of my favourite months: not too hot and mostly pleasantly sunny. But this year I keep waking up to grey skies and chilly mornings. It is the sort of weather I became used to when on holiday in West Wales... or anywhere in Ireland. Actually the Irish term for a steady drizzle is: "A nice 'soft' day."

I have found myself taking on the persona of a resident of the UK by beginning conversations with a discussion on the current progress of this or the next downpour. And it's not just the rain, it is so bloody cold. I am still in my winter vests and the duvet remains on the bed. Usually at the beginning of May my wife puts her winter clothes into storage somewhere upstairs; not this year. Or at least she did originally consign them to their summer quarters, but has since been bringing them back down, in dribs and drabs, to wear now... on the so-called cusp of summer.

Not only is the weather playing up, the silver lining compensatory factor is not kicking in. "OK the rain is a bloody nuisance, but it's good for the gardens." Our little patch doesn't seem to be benefitting at all, most of the plants therein still seem to be shrivelling up as per usual - and we have already started watering them.

Nobody enjoys being too hot; sweating is something most of us really can do without, but on reflection I would welcome a heatwave... just a little one... and right now please.

Talking of Wales' default wet weather: a few years back my wife and I were staying for a few days with friends in a small South Wales town. It was high summer but the weather was universally wet. One drizzly morning our hostess suggested we accompany her into town, since it was market day.

"They have the usual farmers' market plus something that's just like your monti in the streets surrounding it."

So we drove through the rain into the town's centre. The promised Welsh monti was however something of a damp squib (pun intended). There were plenty of stalls, but all were cocooned in transparent plastic sheeting, while the stallholders stood stoically behind their stalls huddled in waterproofs and sou-westers. So we abandoned the "monti" and made our way into the covered farmers' market. My wife and our hostess headed for the food stalls, while I decided to wait for them just inside the covered area.

After a short time two old ladies met up about a foot away from where I stood. One greeted her friend with: "'Ullo."

The other responded likewise, then continued: "Nice today isn't it."

It was chucking it down outside!

"Yes," replied her friend: "I think we might get some summer after all."

When my wife and our hostess returned I repeated the exchange to them. Our hostess scanned the battleship grey sky, shrugged and replied: "Well, it is only drizzling."

That is a true story: so please summer start soon!