Here it is again.
Seems I made a missed-turn somewhere. Ever since I was in my teens I’ve struggled like hell to be content when indoors on really, really nice days.
You think it’s just ‘silliness’ or perhaps you might grow out of it.
I haven’t. I suppose it’s a bit of a joke amongst family, partners – “Steve won’t travel inland in the summer months” – and it’s true; I can never in my heart see the point of leaving the coast (especially as that would involve sitting in a metal can, possibly in a traffic-jam – being slowly cooked from above) during the warmer months.
Trouble is, it’s got a bit serious now .
You see I sought, fought, over-qualified and god-knows what else to gain a lectureship at a local F.E. College. Just when I arrived, so did the relentless erosion of F.E. lecturers’ conditions; our students might be complete, in fact gone – by the end middle of June, but we must continue on until a specified 3rd week of July, (FIVE WEEKS LATER). (You’ll be lucky to get three consecutive weeks in ‘summer’).
“Better than most!” you scream at the monitor, and you’d be right.
And if you could guarantee good weather for those precious three weeks, I’d be the happy bunny from bunnyland.
Not gonna happen is it though?
I guess I should have plumped for some outsidey thing, what – 30 years ago?
OK, the only Weather-related conspiracy theory being cited currently (google search) is . . . .
<< HERE >>
So, here’s mine.
I’ve noticed just how wrong a forecast can be for some months now. I mean, OK, we all have – but it’s the way they’re wrong.
You can accept half-a-day either way. We live on an island, and our weather is predominantly from the West, across the Atlantic. Stuff happens, things change, ‘it’s not a precise science’ etc etc – we know all this.
No, it’s much more subtle than that.
In a heat-wave that spans the working-week, we are NEVER told if it’s due to break-down by the weekend.
Twice now this year, forecasters have either:
- Completely failed to mention the weekend.
- Talked about Saturday ONLY,
and then fleetingly, and in fantastically general terms.
- Focussed on one or two areas of the country only.
- Made some loose non-statement that covers every eventuality.
- Had the radio’s previous content overrun slightly – so as to cause a rushed weather report before the news or time-signal (Radio 4)
So? The conspiracy then.
I think, the Met’ Office and/or the BBC are under instruction not to tell the public that the sweltering week they’ve just worked through is going to end in a dismal weekend.
I think it’s down to lost work-days, ‘sickies’, and public morale.
It has happened too many times for it to be a mistake.
Lovely start to the day, Hannah Cerro & Liam Terry (ex-students of mine) popped by to do a bit of paperwork. What a lovely pair they are. I took Mum to Sainsburys, and as I leaned against a pillar just outside it reminded me so much of taking Nanny Booth around exactly the same shop: What? 10, 15 years ago? Stormy as a bucket full of Vulture droppings, the wind and rain ceaseless today.
Tonight I’m driving up to ‘Limply Stoke’ (no, really) almost as good as ‘Loose Chippings’ so, we’ll see what we see won’t we?
Seems all week we’ve been buffeted by these things sweeping in from the West, a couple a day.
This morning, just after 6.30 it was dead still, big moon,stars, about 3.5degrees.
Later during the workaday haze the clear blue sky reminded me to take a Proper Look (not a glance, but keep looking out – let the receptors drink in the distance & colour), and let the change of focus ease the eye-strain from constant monitor scrutiny. “You’ve missed a bracket there” or “that style code is out” etc.
We didn’t do a lot. The last week before Christmas seems to infect pretty well all of them. And I’m the worst.
Tonight they’re back. Blacker clouds than the encroaching night, and the hammering of the rain on Mum’s conservatory roof.
I need a more ‘grown up’ platform for my various musings, and although I’ve hosted the Wonderful WordPress sites before myself, I thought this method might do better in terms of accessibility (for me, and you , dear reader . . . . )