I live in the UK, so, that time of year between the really, really rainy cold bit and the other really rainy cold bit typically goes like this:
At around Easter, (when you feel that you can take no more miserable grey days and are certainly going to emigrate to somewhere that does not suck) we are blessed with around a week (sometimes two) of fairly sunny, dry and pleasant weather. You may start to pack away jumpers (sweaters, USA) and other woolly clothing and go shopping for new floral, floaty numbers. Summer is here...yay!
Then it instantly returns to this endless greyness that we all know and refer to as British Summertime. Out come the recently banished woolly clothing. They're still necessary in the evenings, as are gloves. News reports claim another day or two of sunshine should be due around August and we are often promised an "Indian Summer" in a panicked, government sponsored attempt at keeping some English Natives here in the Country.
My summers are spent resenting the fact that I left my expensive, working umbrella in the pub and hating the cheap replacement I purchased out of bitterness. They are spent shivering in parks, clutching ice lollies with numb hands, convinced that if I go through the motions of what should constitute summer behaviour it will work magic. They are spent listening to old people reminisce the heatwaves of days gone by and promising myself, that when I have finished my Nursing Degree I definitely MUST emigrate to somewhere with sunshine.