Even if it doesn't last - I suspect that it won't - and even if the brief change gives me a migraine - I suspect that it is going to - there is a peculiar bliss is being woken at 5.10 in the morning from a fitful over-heated sleep by a cool breeze and the gentle hiss of rain. And by having to get up and bring washing in and fold it up, and then stand out there, in a dressing gown, just being cool for a few minutes, and getting wet.
As the world goes to pieces, we must learn to treasure such moments when we get them. They are one of the few things that unite humanity, I suppose; the simple animal joy of quiet rain and a brief end to baking heat.
Somehow, I suspect that George W. Bush doesn't get up in the early morning and feel cold rain on his face as he gets in his knickers from a drying rack, but that is his loss, not mine.