I hope I can beg Mark Twain's indulgence in borrowing and twisting one of his most famous (and possibly misattributed) statements.

I knew what I wanted to shoot today. I had it all planned out. I just needed to wait for sunset to get some golden hour light. It had to be sunset light; sunrise was no good for what I needed.

But hey, no problem, right? We've had clear, blue skies just dripping with the clearest golden yellow sun you could ever wish for throughout most of the day! And, of course, the weather bureau assured us not to worry, for as you can see from the sainted B.O.M. app, the day will have no rain (which was true), and would be "clear".

Which was true until 15:30 or so when a honking great grey cloud band rolled in from the west.

And so as I am typing this, I am sitting under grey, colourless light that is completely useless for the photo I wanted.

(Oh, and "feels like 16.8"? Yyyyeah, no it doesn't. Even remotely. Indoors it feels like about 26 because the house has been soaking up the heat all day. Outside, there's a slight breeze which, if you're in it, makes it feel like a comfortable low 20s. But 16.8? Only if you're standing about 3 metres from the refrigerated meat section of a supermarket... maybe.)

Oh well, maybe tomorrow...