June is drizzling down all over, and the mayflies have gone into hiding in the bushes around my backyard slice of Lough Derg, at Killaloe.
And the dapping addicts amongst my neighbours are frustrated beyond belief, because most of them did not manage to catch anything apart from a cold or flu out on the lake all through the mayfly season.
However, not being an angler, I am a happy citizen of Clare, as T-Day dawned over a delighted nation.
I’m sure many of you are, so to speak, in the same boat.
It is important to point out immediately that my pride and joy this week is not connected at all to the arrival in Shannon of some bigwig or other whose surname begins with a T too, and whose antics and activities globally drive me much closer to the dreaded DTs condition we all fear and dread.
No, I am speaking about the mighty achievement in Madison Square Garden last weekend of our world boxing queen of all the belts, Katie Taylor from Bray.
The sacrifices of many Irish warriors towards the close of World War Two were being properly honoured and remembered by the D-Day ceremonies on both coasts of the Wild Atlantic Way, when our Katie came home to us after the toughest battle of her unbeaten professional career, laden with more golden title belts than she was easily able to carry alone.
That was a genuinely heartwarming T- Day at Dublin Airport. We will never forget it.
This is much more than a mere sporting piece.
This lady who came home with two black eyes and a patched forehead achieved against all the odds and risks attached to her tough sport what none of her male counterparts from this island have yet achieved.
She starred the show, on the night when the highly vaunted Anthony Joshua dramatically was turned upside down on his way to becoming the latest name on the lengthy list of horizontal heavyweights from the other side of the Irish Sea.
He was spouting the hype for a month and more, before he was comprehensively hammered by the burly Mexican underdog, Ruiz.
Katie Taylor, on the other hand, was as modest and quietly determined, and delighted after her massive victory, as she had been before the battle royal in the Garden.
Regular readers will know I’ve been singing her praises here and elsewhere for a long time.
It is no surprise at all that her Bray neighbours have already begun plans to erect a statue of her in their home town.
That is real recognition and lasting thanks for one of their own.
I doubt there will ever be a statue of Anthony Joshua gracing his home town of Watford in the immediate future.
It is certain, unless it is quietly funded by devious means, that we won’t be seeing a new statue in Doonbeg either, nor a new hard border wall against the Atlantic Ocean around the golf resort which has lately been attracting a significant acreage of what some are terming fake news, for whatever reason.
No doubt we will be hearing much more about that before June is much more advanced.
There is an ironic sidebar to Katie Taylor’s triumph.
Her teak-tough opponent, who left the ring in tears after her defeat, is a Belgian police chief, who almost certainly will qualify for a rematch, maybe in Dublin, and maybe before the end of this year.
I hope that develops, and we will have another T- Day to look forward to, in the autumn.
By then, too, perhaps, the incredibly demanding total recount of the Ireland South European Parliament election constituency voting papers, which are a yard long, will enable the MEPs involved to take part in another battle of a different kind altogether, a battle for a new Parliament President in Brussels, a job for which Mairead McGuinness, MEP, is throwing her cap in the ring.
Intriguing times ahead, inside all the rings of conflict.
In the meantime, still celebrating T-Day, and forgetting all the travails created by matters politic and economic, I hereby publicly state that I will handsomely contribute to the Bray project for the prompt erection of a statue in honour of the magnificently modest but successful Katie Taylor of that town.
We will not soon see her like again.