Once more into the breach...

I've avoided it as much as possible, but I feel I must devote an entire blog to the weather here in Canada.
 
British (and by British I mean people living in Great Britain, or head-office as I refer to it to the natives) people by-and-large like to talk about the weather.
 
And after having spent some time in a place that actually has weather, I find it odd that the British (and by British I mean decent god-fearing folk, non of your French nonsense). Sorry where was I?
 
Oh yes, weather. Yes we have it, and, cor-blimey, there's plenty 'ere mate.
 
Now that that is cleared up...
 
Suffice to say it is very hot (or tres chaud as the French peasants would say) here in France. I mean Canada. Around +35C. When talking Canadia weather it's best to be explicit about the sign (the plus or minus bit at the front for any girls reading). If you just say 35C you really have no idea which side of toast is buttered.
 
Despite this +35C nonsense, last night, during another thunderstorm, there were plenty of reports of golf ball size hail (just marrowfat peas in our district). And the thunder, it's not like Baldrine you know. Waiting around for 2-3 minutes for the next strike, the strikes are every few seconds, big buggers to.
 
We've also had tornados. Two to be precise. Not little whirlwinds (of which I've seen two, up close) but full Tornados. Just to the west of where I work. I didn't see them, one of the joys of air-conditioning and tailor made trousers.
 
And flash floods. During the storm (on the night I crashed my bike) the Whitemud Freeway (a big 8 laner) totally flooded, the waters covering the abandoned cars.
 
It's all rather bizarre, especially for one brought up in old jolly old Britannia. And to top it all, the Canadianas don't even talk about it, "which storm?" they say, and "No, I was asleep, who are you anyway and what are you doing with my trousers on".
 
Off to bed now, next demonstration of God's Power should start in about 45 minutes judging by the clouds.
 
Poo and wee.