AS a nation there are certain things that we like to believe about ourselves: a love of fair play and kindness to animals, to name but two.

We do of course choose positive characteristics to describe ourselves. At one time a love of invading countries and exploiting their natural resources was a positive point but is no longer one to shout about.

In true spirit of fair play we do of course have to admit to certain flaws as well, but these can only really be minor, such as an obsession with the weather. This is perceived as a uniquely British trait because we did of course invent the weather and other countries don’t really get weather, not like the British Isles.

Well, I have got news for you, the Brits are not alone, the obsession is shared: glance across the Channel beneath the rain clouds and you will see another nation who can talk of little else. Better still, tune into channel France 24 on your satellite and soak up the worldwide weather report, obviously scripted by a meteorologist who is doing a part-time evening course specialising in the Romantic poets. You will hear how “Sydney is damp once more while Alice Springs gets no wet relief from the skies at all, while rain taunts Beijing”.

The French media loves the weather, and so do the people. I can’t buy my veg on a Sunday morning without the market holder telling me what the weather is doing, and what it is going to do. I could tell her that for all but three months of the year it is cold and damp in the village because it is in the bottom of the valley, and is considerably warmer chez nous on the south-facing slope at the top of the hill. What would be the point? Once we had established these facts, there would be nothing more to say. Without knowing any personal facts about each other, we would be obliged to stand in stony silence until the veg transaction had taken place.

Likewise, when I bump into André the retired farmer in the next house along, what would we discuss? I am not going to ask him for tips on crop rotation or cattle rearing. He may well be a font of knowledge on the subject, but it would mean nothing to me. Instead, I ask him about the weather, and like any farmer anywhere in the world he is an expert. Just the other day I asked him what the winter was going to be like and he explained to me that the last time that he had experienced such a dry autumn was back in 1949 and that year as soon as the rain arrived, so did the snow. The rain arrived today, and it was just as well that I left the toboggan in the garage because there was precious little sign of any snow, thank goodness.

The weather gives us a chance to ask people for something they are always happy to give – their opinion. For others, it is a chance to complain. My colleague Guillaume is barely able to start the day without complaining that it is freezing cold (under 14 degrees) or unbearably stifling (over 14 degrees). This is not because he is a miserable person, he is almost irrepressibly cheerful, it is because he loves to complain, and the weather is a perfect whipping boy. It is always going to annoy you and is an anonymous third party that is impossible to offend.

So next time that you are on holiday and you see ‘tropical activity manifesting itself in Indonesia spilling over into the Cayman peninsular’, walk over to a complete stranger and tell them exactly what you think of the weather. I guarantee that they will smile and you will have a new friend.