When it rains, it pours. I know British weather is meant to be temperamental, but it’s been ridiculous lately.

One thing I used to love about growing up in Lancashire was the consistency of the weather.

Yes, it may rain a lot, the wind might pick up a gust every now and there’d be a persistent grey cloud hanging over us but I feel that made us appreciate good weather even more.

I’ve always thought that it forced us to enjoy ourselves despite the weather and that’s something I’m proud of us northerners (and other areas too of course) for.

Only in drizzly, cold northern towns do you see scantily clad bar-hoppers and tight T-shirt wearing club-goers, braving the chilly air in search for more beer to drink and empty streets to shout in.

As I’ve said in the past, I grew up with the children of farmers, people that get up at 4 or 5am, in the sleet or the rain in little more than a battered old coat that smells of dogs for warmth.

This meant I was surrounded by people who managed to stay in good spirits no matter what the weather was saying.

If anything, I’d have the mickey taken out of me for sleeping in until 8am or shivering if I was stood in a cold, wet field in just a T-shirt and shorts, with a meldrop forming on the tip of my nose.

“Get a grip lad!” is what I’d be met with.

As the son of thespians, I was often seen as a delicate flower compared to salt of the earth farmers I grew up around.

Despite having to just bashfully smile and take this emasculation on the chin, I think this attitude of “just get on wi’it!” helped me as I grew up. So what if it’s raining?

Grab an old kagool and go puddle hopping with your kids or grandkids. So what it’s a bit cold to play footy?

Be more like Arsenal’s Scottish defender Kiernan Tierney and stick to the footy top and shorts, no gloves or undergarments mind, you’ll warm up!

But as of late, this inconsistent weather means that it’s cold and wet one minute, a fresh spring sunny afternoon the next.

The other day I was contemplating a stroll out as the sun peeked out from behind the parted clouds.

The next thing I knew I was sheltering from a bombardment of hailstones the size of peas, and not petit pois either!

It’s almost like the weather knows it’s been a slightly bizarre and unpredictable year and is trying to follow suit!

Oh well, a bit of sun is better than nowt, right?