A man so easily fooled

The morning sun that had stroked his face and brought him comfort like a caring mother pacifying a small child had vanished behind a bank of thick clouds. He changed his course of direction from south to east and as he continued his journey he began to climb higher onto more open ground. By the time he'd reached its highest point his body was being buffered by a bitter wind with all the chill of a woman scorned at the altar by a man who'd run off with her younger sister. The type of weather carried over thousands of kilometres from regions such as Siberia which the Russians scientists would lay claim to being a secret nerve agent given half the chance, the sort that turns your nose on like a tap and running like the engine of a getaway car outside a bank. That's not the only waterworks it turns on, it'll infect your bladder leaving you pissing like a racehorse but only after your frozen fingers have fumbled with the buttons on your jeans like a 15 year old virgin about to break his cherry only to discover what lays between your legs is half the size it was when you last pissed in the warmth of your own home. 

The only sounds to be heard deep in the countryside were the over enthusiastic chirping of a bird clearly oblivious to the effects of the cold, and of him blowing his nose doing a solid impression of the ferries that rolled into docks from the Solent. He gazed up to the skies to see if the sun showed any signs of making a reappearance anytime soon but no hint of it could be found, it was now as much use to him as a dark night sky would be to keep warm. He cursed himself for his choice of clothing and began to wish he'd worn his thick winter coat which he'd left on a hook as he'd exited the house lulled into a false sense of security by the warmth of the sun through the kitchen window from where he'd stood drinking tea and watching the world go by. The sun in winter is as good a con artist as anywhere else in the world, making you believe it's the height of summer with its greenhouse effect when truthfully it's nothing of the sort. It's just a sleight of hand to induce you into making a stupid bet and it'll quickly fleece you long before you even realise what was about to happen. 

Further down the road a few hardy souls were also braving the weather no doubt trying to walk off the excesses that Christmas day had brought with them only to return back home and repeat the process thus rendering their efforts null and void. Out of view he stopped to relieve his bladder again and wondered as he did so how it was possible to quaff litres of fluid in the summer and not manage to be able to fill an egg cup, yet in the winter a simple mug of tea felt like it came out in gallons.