I know a family who used to regularly holiday in a remote part of Donegal in the Irish Republic, visiting family and friends.
This particular area is beautiful, relatively unspoilt, and has a sandy beach which stretches for miles, with a magnificent mountain in the background to give additional atmosphere.
Yet this stretch of coast with its immaculate, clean beach has very few visitors - and that's because it rains most of the time.
On each and every visit, as the family sat in their relatives' houses listening to the rain pounding on the roof, watching the puddles getting larger and seeing the mountain shrouded in mist and cloud, the refrain would always be 'Ah, sure you should have been here last week - the sun was splitting the stones! It was too hot to work!'
I was reminded of this scenario as I sat in my holiday accommodation, over the Easter break, except it was the other way round, with the television weather presenter gleefully telling me that next week I would have temperatures of up to 24 degrees and warm sunshine from the Mediterranean.
Not much comfort I'm afraid when you're sitting in the fog in North Norfolk to hear that the following week - when the children have of course gone back to school - is going to be glorious!
We put a brave face on it of course - there's no such thing as bad weather, just incorrect clothing, or so I kept telling myself.
But when I stood on a cliff top in Cromer and couldn't see the Pier, let alone the sea which was just feet below me, I was struggling to stay positive about the great British weather!
It was cold, it was damp, and visibility was down to arm's length in places. I've never seen fog like it.
Luckily, it wasn't my first visit to the area so I knew what it should look like.
We met a coach load of Japanese tourists in Sheringham, also shrouded in the same thick fog; I did wonder what they made of it all.