Sunday, June 10, 2012

Weathery heights

This is a post about the weather. Yes, the weather. Only the weather.

Become I moved to England, I never quite understood what people meant by "talking about the weather". Sure, it's a good neutral topic for small talk. But, c'mon, it's pretty boring, as far as conversation subjects go. And really, there is only so much one can say about the bloody weather.

Boy was I wrong.

They say that Brits love to talk about the weather. Having lived here for about 8 months now, I understand why. Hell, half the time all I talk about is the weather. More specifically, I constantly bemoan the lack of sunshine, repeatedly point out that it's still raining and act all surprised when it's actually nice. Even with my friends. You know, those brilliant, intelligent, funny people that I go to school with and could have a fascinating conversation about anything from politics to movies? Nope, we're discussing the weather. Complaining (the non-Brits/Irish). Or pointing out that it could be, gulp, even worse (the Brits and Irish).

Really, I'm always surprised to find myself having so much to say about the weather, of all things. It's either too cold, too overcast, too wet or too hot and humid. But most of the time, it's TOO MUCH OF THE SAME. Case in point: it's currently the 10th of June. Which, in the Northern hemisphere, puts us smack in the middle of summer. But if it is indeed summer (and my calendar confirms that I haven't gone crazy, thankyouverymuch), then why for the love of God did I just TURN ON MY HEATING AND DIG OUT MY WINTER COAT. The latter being the coat that I was wearing six months ago. In December.

...and in November. And January. February. March. April. (Not in May because the weather actually made sense.) And, oh yeah, JUNE.

There is perhaps some economic/sartorial benefit to extract from this situation, but the downside is that I. Am. Going. Crazy. Over the weather. The bloody, rainy, overcast, depressing English weather. These grey skies finally succeeded where 17 years of harsh Canadian winters failed, namely in driving me 'round the bend.

(Or possibly that's what upcoming Oxford examinations do to you.)

(In either case...bloody hell. I can't tell if I've gone native, or if this tirade is the product of me being, well, under the weather.)

So. How's the weather for you?

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