And Met men say there's more to come...

'Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote The droght of Marche hath perced to the roote...' Well, shoures soote are one thing, but what we've been having this April is another matter altogether - day after day of rain, with torrential, wind-lashed downpours dumping a month's-worth of the stuff in hours. It's been relentless Haggard weather, and there's no end in sight. What's worse, we in the Thames Water area know that even when it does eventually end, the drocht of Marche has been thoroughly perced and we can put our ark-building projects on hold, we will still be 'in drought' and banned from using our hosepipes, thanks to Thames's insistence on losing a full 25 per cent of its water in leaks (while exhorting us to save water by not running the tap while brushing our teeth, etc.). The spring butterflies will be suffering terribly - I can't imagine there have been many Pearl-Bordered Fritillaires flying down in the storm-lashed West Country these past few weeks. And it all started so well, with the wonderfully warm sunny March weather. By All Fools Day, I had already seen Red Admirals, Brimstones, Small Whites, Peacocks, Holly Blues, Orange Tips and Speckled Woods. Since then, nothing new, apart from the Green Hairstreak that flew into my dream last night and perched in full view on a pathside shrub. This lifted the sodden spirits no end - as did the sight, from the train yesterday evening, of a glorious double rainbow over Clapham. But I wasn't quite as excited as this fellow...