As we walked into Regent's Park it started drizzling, but the air was mild and the greenery so intense it was almost intoxicating and everything seemed as it should be : specially designed for us by the great designer in the sky.
The wind gusted occasionally though, making it suddenly cold, and all the paddle boats were parked up empty, looking forlorn and unemployed.
Tony's got form in this department and it's not good.
If only one of his many properties were located in Damascus - he might be less keen on 'intervention' if it was one of his places that got smashed up. Or if one of his sons was a soldier.
It started raining very hard.
Whatever happened to non - violence, the strategy that threw the British out of India?
But then the sun burst through and the white sky turned blue and the scene was transformed.
Looking up, there wasn't a drone in the sky and all around Shia mingled with Sunni and Muslim sat down with Hindu. Girls in Burkhas talked excitedly about Korean pop stars and the geese and ducks waddled around looking for someone to smile at and found an old lady who smiled back at them and fed them with breadcrumbs. People stopped shopping at Primark, insisting that they wouldn't buy from sweated labour.......no, now I've gone too far!
Mr Blair, pop down to Regent's Park, stroll around and do nothing for an afternoon. You work too hard. You need rest. The graveyards are full of indispensable people.
It started to get hotter as the afternoon wore on - was this the promised heatwave?
Over to Martha and the Vandellas.
In the sixties, they had heatwaves.