The eternal mockery of the British public is something I am on board with. I enjoy it and actively participate in extracting the urine out of the collective that is known as ‘people from the UK’ (nobody ever calls them that).
But there is one element stereotypical to us Brits that I will not stand for mockery of, gentle as it may be. Yes folks – when we talk about the weather, it is not something to be sniffed at or cast aside as, indeed, worthless prattle.
For you see we are a nation that does not get proper weather. We are not a nation that seems to experience the vast differences in season that other, better countries do. Our winters tend to be a bit colder than our summers, while our springs are only distinguishable from out autumns in the colour and number of leaves on show.
So when we choose to discuss the weather it is because we have been genuinely bewildered by its behaviour, usually because it’s actually gone and tried to do the whole Real Weather thing.
It usually fails and peters out somewhat, but it does try sometimes, in that indomitable British way.
Our need to discuss the weather isn’t because we are boring and rubbish at small talk: it’s because we are constantly in a state of awe at what it is nature throws our way. Be it an actual bit of sunshine for an hour or so in the summer or be it the 370th overcast day in a calendar year – we always have something to be surprised about, so we always have something to talk about.
Basically what I’m getting at is this: what the fucking hell is wrong with the weather why is it raining so much in July and will it please stop so I can at least feel guilty for not going to the beach in the summer again.
Thank you and good night.
Looks like we’re going to have to redo the seasons then, seeing as Weather has decided it’s not going to play by the rules anymore. Rather than being annoyed, like a lot of people seem to be, I have nothing but respect for Weather’s blatant disregard for societal norms and what would be considered ‘acceptable’ behaviour.
After all, Weather had got itself into a rut over the last however many centuries we’ve been paying attention to it. Never mind us getting used to it – taking it for granted – Weather itself must have been bored of the routine. When you’ve got fat, bespectacled, nerdy men on TV easily and correctly predicted what you’re going to do tomorrow.. it’s embarrassing, frankly.
Fortunately Weather has more credibility than that and has decided to fuck with the heads of those that expect the most from it. It took a while to pluck up the courage, true, but I like to think maybe Weather was just using its off time – you know, when it’s overcast (so most of the time in the UK, ho ho) –to make some in-depth and cunning plans.
And now those plans are coming to fruition. We expect Weather to be nice and not kill us all, but instead Weather decided to just go against that whole thing and blow people through walls and stuff (note: I’m not sure if that actually happened, but hey).
Then it decided that the end of September, when it’s autumnal and approaching the winter (WINTER IS COMING HA HA HA I LIKE REDDIT) that it would actually pull the greatest swerve of all time and provide us with the summer it completely ‘forgot’ to give us at the normal time in the year.
Either that or we’re all going to die of Instant Onset Climate Change.
I’m getting pretty sick and tired of the US and its constant need to one-up the UK. They have to go bigger with everything – roads, cars, foods, peoples, buildingses, more foods, hammocks. I could go on.
Taps. Beans. Other, smaller hammocks (still bigger than ours). Hands. Hams. Ratio of wars to number of years existed as a country. I’ll stop now.
Anyway, turns out they can’t just let us have our ‘one month of rain in two hours’ here in Bournemouth, and have to one-up us by having potentially one of the worst hurricanes to hit the northeastern seaboard since the early 90s/mid-80s. “Ooooh, look at us, we have to one-up you Limeys all the time”. Gits.
Say hello to what you get in place of me doing a blog yesterday: it’s the Ian looking at the news and deciding whatever’s the main headline will get blogged about hour! N.B. Not actually an hour, more a ten minutes or so.
I wasn’t ever really that scared about wind-based bad weather, for two very good reasons. One, I’m English, so I’ve never seen anything really strong – apart from the time I saw a truck on the motorway swerve a bit because of a potent gust. My life flashed before my eyes that day (it didn’t). B, I hadn’t seen this image, taken in the aftermath of the US tornado that ravaged part of the country earlier this year:
Yeah, fuck wind.
Dan, or Mike, or someone like that: explain to me how wood can pierce concrete like that. I feel this is something one of you should know.
When I were a lad I’d play in t’snow til three in t’morning in nothing but me bra and pants, then come inside and have to sit in t’fridge for a bit cos I were too warm outside. I’d eat snow to warm me cockles and strap blocks of ice t’me head when I got chilly. Which was never, as I never got cold. Same applies nah.
These pansy southerners though, wi’ their lah de dah “coats” and hoity toity “gloves” make me sick. I dint fight and die in t’World War II so these sods could prance around in oversized winter clothes. Some say I dint fight and die in any war, but who knows for sure? All I do t’know is: I’m well warm, me.
Seriously though, I love how the weather has taken a turn for the chillier. For some reason I’m naturally one of the warmest people in the world at all times. Seriously, feel my hands at some point and be amazed at how toasty they always are. And clammy. Anyway, a bit of a dip in the temperature means that while everyone else in The South puts their biggest coats, gloves and hats on, I can merely add one extra layer and be comfortable. Happy, in fact, as I’m no longer THE WARMEST PERSON EVER when I’m walking.
Hence, I like the cold. Or something. Also I’m northern and well ‘ard.
I will likely retract this statement in a month or so when it gets freezing.