Here in the UK we get used to a bit of wet weather. After all, unlike Spain, where the rain falls mainly on the plain, it falls mainly on us individuals here in England. And believe me, there is a lot of it to fall. A few weeks ago our town centre flooded so badly that they closed the roads (don’t get me wrong, there wasn’t that much water, we just don’t seem to be able to cope with even a few more drops than normal, and adverse weather conditions send me the country into a tizzy).
It’s something we are brought up with; a bit like baby food I guess. Kids put up with it until they get teeth, because otherwise they would starve. Well people in Britain put up with rain, because we don’t really have much choice. We all feel pretty strongly about the fact that we hate it, but as we are so conditioned to water falling from the sky, we don’t do anything as drastic as to emigrate very often.
But it’s getting a bit much. In fact, the freak weather of this entire year is really starting to bother me. In April, when I was in California, Blighty was struck with an unseasonably early warm spell. This was the only summer we were going to have apparently. And I missed it.
Then we had the ‘summer’, when it consistently rained for four months, and then it came to October. The start of October was actually on one day, hotter than Istanbul and Morocco according to the excited man on the news, and now we are in mid-November and the temperature hasn’t dropped much lower than ten degrees yet. Every week on the weather forecast they tell us that there will be snow by the end of the week, and it never comes. I nervously go out to the car in the morning hoping that there isn’t a thick layer of frost on the glass, as I have my morning routine down and any slight change could delay me by ten minutes, causing me to be late for work. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the cold and the snow. I hate when you can’t feel your fingers and when you suddenly remember the reason you considered buying those expensive boots (waterproof) but went with cheap ones. Your feet now smell like a damp kitchen cloth and you are always slightly soggy. But it felt a bit weird at the end of November when Em and I decided to go to the supermarket after dark (I mean post 8pm, the sun actually set this week just after 4) and it was warm enough for me to not wear a coat or any snuggly winter accessories. It’s just plain wrong!
Now we are a few days from Christmas the temperature has dropped enough for me to park the car in the garage for fear of having to scrape the ice off it (my least favourite job), but I haven’t worn my coat much and my mittens are forlornly waiting in the bottom of my hand bag (along with a load of other crap like tiger balm and a key whose purpose I am unsure of) for a cold snap!
Is anywhere else in the world experiencing weird weather conditions?
For the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Eleven Pipers Piping.
And Susie Lindau. Merry Christmas Susie and thanks for keeping me amused in 2011 🙂
My Eleven Pipers Piping post has to be Weak at the Knees, a post I wrote about the dying out phenomenon of a girl going weak at the knees.
Three more sleeps!