Independent: When it came to weather, my parents were like those two little figures who alternate in emerging from the barometrically sensitive model house. My mother was the gloomy one, ever-armed with umbrella (and Pac-a-mac, for good measure), ever-ready with gloomy forebodings ("Sun before seven, rain by 11" was a favourite way to greet a cheery morning). My father was the sunny type, able to discern patches of incipient blue in the most leaden skies and who would describe each fall of rain, however prolonged...