Today it's raining heavily. A tupperware coloured sky chucking heavy raindrops all over Edinburgh and, presumably, beyond.
My dog is unimpressed.
But if you have a dog, you have to take him for walks, so I'm having none of the eye-rolling, faint groaning or wilful neck stiffening that he's trying out as he stands at the front door looking disgusted and outraged.
Outsize umbrella in one hand, dog lead in the other, we set out for a walk in the park.
I even hear myself say to him, 'You'll feel the better of this...'
But 100 yards later, he's already done everything he needs to do to make him feel better and he's ready to turn right back round and head for home.
I persevere for a while, but he does a lot of sitting down and glaring. People are looking at us.
I turn round and he canters ahead of me, all jolly and pleased with himself, a bit like Alfie in Alfie Gets in First.
And he's right.
Unless you're a duck, this isn't a day for a routemarch round the park.