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The grey-at British weather

I don’t want to worry anyone but, according to my calendar, it’s almost April.

It feels like only yesterday we were opening presents, overindulging on roast dinners and nursing New Year’s Eve hangovers.

Somehow, it’s almost four months into the year, those once optimistic resolutions are long abandoned and we’re pretending that spring has sprung even though, deep down, we know that England’s seasons closer resemble 50 Shades of Grey than the fictional millionaire character himself.

On Friday, the dreary blanket of grey surpassed itself when the rare opportunity to witness a solar eclipse was ruined by the unbroken clouds hanging overhead.

Not wanting to miss such a golden opportunity, we went outside on to the roof to gaze in awe at the same grey backdrop that had coloured the countryside for days.

The pages of safety tips, homemade viewing devices, and people shrieking ‘DON’T LOOK INTO THE SUN’ were a tad premature with the big round yellow thing nowhere to be seen ... until about an hour later when the clouds broke. Typical.

As Barbs mentioned in her column last week, I don’t have much time for the woes of multi-millionaire Jeremy Clarkson, who was suspended after allegedly punching a producer.

In the world of you or me, punching your boss in the face is a sackable offence and one that probably doesn’t warrant a worldwide campaign for your reinstatement.

I’ve never really understood the adoration of Clarkson or Top Gear for that matter.

I just find it very difficult to care about the sacking of someone who has had more public blunders and whoops-did-I-really-say-that moments than a UKIP candidate.

The one ray of sunshine from the whole sorry situation was to have the word “fracas” back in the news. What a brilliant way to describe an (alleged) punch up.

I like to imagine that BBC bosses didn’t want to give the game away, so they thought calling it an “incident” was too strong, and a “snafu” too light.

We need something in between shouting match and full blown war, they thought. Keep it vague yet serious, something to keep the press guessing and minimise damage.

I know, a fracas! No one is really sure what it means anyway. And so that was it. The Clarkson fracas of 2015: what a highlight.

If only we could get as many people to care so vocally about the lack of affordable housing driving up the homeless household waiting list, or the vulnerable families being turfed out of Sure Start centres across the UK.

Next month, there is a special date everyone aged 18 or over should watch out for.

It’s not April Fools Day or a bank holiday or anything fun like that, but the closing date to register for this year’s elections.

Without a vote, you lose your voice and any right to criticise once the ballot papers are counted.

You may think all the parties are rubbish or voting is pointless but, in reality, there’s nothing more damaging than apathy.

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