The manager at work [slightly fous French gent] came into the office and remarked that it looks like the end of the world... rather oddly, I had, moments before, looked out of the window and wondered if I should expect strange beasts riding across the heavens. A none-more-black sky bulks over the heavy green of trees moping in the rain. A wildcat did howl...
A more suitable activity would be the consumption of toast in front of the Monday Matinée, a black & white number, perhaps involving Fred Astaire.
On which note, I found this antidote to meteorological gloom:
Stylin!
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