There’s nothing between “tolerable” and “deadly” when it comes to weather lately. We’ve only just crawled out of a drought, and already we’re up to our eyeballs with rain water. Where’s the logic? Of course we were up to our eyeballs with water during the drought as well, which defies logic even more, but then that’s the sort of thing you come to expect on this miserable rock.
As much as you expect it though, it still somehow continues to baffle and confuse Britons everywhere. How can things like this happen? You shouldn’t experience mother nature’s hormonal mood swings this intense outside the amazon rainforest, yet lately she seems to be concentrating all of her feminine fury in England – more specifically, my back garden.
Saying that, today was warm and sunny almost completely throughout, but if there are any sort of trends in british weather, I can safely assume that means tomorrow will see half the entire continent of Europe’s yearly quota of falling soggy misery cascading from the heavens up and down the country – but mostly in my back garden.
As a veteran englishman (I’ve been one all my life, I consider myself a pro by now) I’m pretty much used to the unpredictability, but it still manages to catch me off guard a little when hailstones start descending from the skies in the middle of summer, which in entirely possible here – in fact, I may have saw a few in my back garden earlier today. That’s not a good sign.
Well, the weatherman seems to think it’ll be ok; a bit cold, but erring on the side of “tolerable” for the first time in ages. That can only mean one thing – rain. More rain than you thought could ever fit in the skies, all crudely crammed above one small area of land that clearly no force of nature has any regard for.
My back garden won’t know what hit it.