The first of Laurence Smith's two weddings was meant to take place in the midwinter snow not far south of the Arctic Circle. The second foresaw balmy blue skies in Palm Springs, California. As it turned out, the guests were greeted by rain and slush in the far north, then by a chill and more rain in the Californian desert. If the weather is capable of surprising him, why should anyone trust Mr Smith's forecast for 2050? Because the growing freakiness of weather is precisely his point.
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