I’m British (I was about to say that we’re British but I’d hate to start making baseless assumptions about you whatsoever and I very much want to be inclusive. I’m not just setting off on an unjustified tangent wrapping myself up in knots of worry because of implications that wouldn’t have occurred to anyone else), weather is a highly significant thing in my culture.
It’s hardly as if we have impressive customs or anything like that to crow about. That’s why precipitation and local atmosphere ranks so highly in our collective public consciousness. And that’s really saying something because our weather is pretty much grey with the out bout of drizzle thrown in for good measure. Storms, on the other hand, now those are just so gosh darned exciting.
Remember that belter way back then, the thunder and lightning dancing that savage ballet across the night’s sky? More than enough to get you to wax lyrical. Then there was that instance with the exhilaratingly awful storm damage. Trees crashed into roads, blocking off transport links, rainwater leaked its insipid way into assorted domiciles and don’t even get me started about those expensive plates that leaped all the way off the shelves.
I can see you right there, getting lost in those startling memories. Come back to me though, if you start burrowing down too deep, you’re rather more likely than you might think to become embroiled in the past. Before long you won’t be able to find your way out and it’ll be next to impossible to begin sentences with anything but a wistful expression and ‘I remember way back in 85…’ Which is ridiculous, you might not have even been born then. Keep considering the here and now and don’t pine for what might have been. If it ever actually happened.
Song choices courtesy of: Tim Minchin, Ramin Djawadi and Benjamin Francis Leftwich