Poor old Trevor's had his haar, but nearly everywhere else,


You can say that again.

The east coast of Scotland, with this sort of summer weather set-up,
must be one of the most miserable places in the world in which to live.

I am looking out of my window now (because it's too cold to step
outside), with the haar drifting like smoke around the garden. Even the
birds have given up and are skulking under the hedgerow. The only ray
of sunshine (strictly metaphorical) is that the wind is less strong
than it has been for the last few days, and so we might eventually see
some real sun and the temperature might get up as high as, oh, the high
teens.

Trevor
Somewhere (he can't see where exactly) near Dundee