Mad Dogs and Englishmen

For an Englishman it has taken me far too long to whitter on endlessly about the weather, so let that drought end (do you see what I did there?!)

Firstly a quick explanation - I didn't post yesterday because:
1) I was tired;
2) I couldn't think of anything witty, pithy or otherwise to warrant a post; and
3) I posted quite late on Monday, nothing exciting had happened in the meantime; and
4) You got a bonus post on Sunday, be happy.

Yesterday I made the effort to go to 5-a-side football. It really is quite an effort. It requires planning the night before to get my various bags ready: one with the football kit, and one for work which differs from the usual. It differs because I cycle and jog on a Tuesday. I have very little time at home of an evening before I have to leave for 5-a-side, so I need to maximise this by getting home from the train station as early as possible: by bicycle rather than walking. This means I need to cycle to the train station in the morning too. It isn't really appropriate to cycle in my work clothes, so I need to leave the house in shorts and a tshirt; and change into my work clothes later. Changing on the train is less than ideal, but ok in some circumstances; however if I leave early enough and get the early train I have loads of time to change at work. This allows me to combine it with my jogging at work-end of the commute and have a shower at work; but it does mean I need to ready my bag for all the various different forms of transport and clothing requirements. And this all stems from having to get home quickly.

And yes, for those who wondered, it does mean I cycle 2 miles to the train station; jog 2 miles to work; jog two miles back; cycle the two miles home; cycle the 5 miles to footie, play for 90 minutes; then cycle the 5 miles back. Then collapse.

Anyhow, I was in two minds yesterday as to whether to go to 5-a-side. The forecast was to rain, however when I got home it actually looked quite decent outside so I decided to go - after all, if it was dry when I was setting out, the worst I could get was half-wet. It started to shower whilst we were playing. Then it got harder. By the time I embarked upon my 30 minute cycle home it was a torrential downpour.

And yet just over a week ago it was the hottest day of the year and I was swimming in the sea in Brighton (albeit dressed as santa).

Last year we had a nice hot week or two in May, but aside from the odd pleasant weekend the rest of summer wasn't far shy of a wash-out. And it was a similar story the year before as well. Most people will have forgotten the nice couple of weeks - that is human nature - we just remember 'not really having a summer'.

It may just be me reflecting on an idillic childhood through rose-tinted glasses where we all spent long, hot and hazy summers on bicycles down by the riverside or contructing any form of shelter that we could out of sun-loungers, clothes horses and dust blankets out of the garage; but I'm sure summers never used to be as damp as this. Well, they did if only because the novelty of the paddling pool appeared for a couple of weeks before the surface was covered in more flies, wasps, spiders and other beasties than hover over the wildebeast in a wildlife documentary; or in order to give the parched, brown grass a slight degree of respite the sprinkler was release upon it (but only when the neighbours were out because you didn't want reporting as being in breach of the hose-pipe ban).

In fact, as little ago as five years I remember in desperation having to buy a fan one lunchtime because the heat in the bedroom was simply unbearable. A few lunchtimes later I had to go out and buy a timer because the noise in the bedroom from the fan was simply unbearable. I haven't had the fan out since.

Where have those hazy, heady days gone where we were unable to work because the sunlight on our desks (or screens) was so bright it practically burnt our hands? When we got in from work and had to change immediately into the least amount of clothing possible whilst sipping on an incredibly cold beverage? When we couldn't sit on the sofa because our sweat would make it sopping and anyway the floor was much cooler? When any hint of a breeze would be welcome relief from air so humid it was practically smothering us?

When it is nice and I am stuck in work, my only concession is to spend lunch out at the park when it is sunny enough. I am very childish about this (and rightly so) and will go all the way to the middle of the grass and lay the full length of my body out. I restrain myself from whipping off my shirt (other workers use the park for an early afternoon ambulation) but otherwise I might as well take with me a tub of soapy water to blow bubbles from a hoop. Only I wasn't able to do this today - the ground was still sodden from yesterday's downpour, the clouds appeared and disappeared faster than the moles in the games in the arcade, and it was occasionally spitting. I am being denied even my tiniest piece of joy in the middle of the day.

Maybe it is global warming, causing it to rain like this. Maybe this is one of the effects of all those nasty gases I am pumping out when I fart. One has to wonder then why it is called global warming if it isn't actually making us any warmer. Global wetting?

Maybe this is also why Englishmen can go out in the midday sun - because it will probably be raining as well.