The temperature gauge round here has been swinging around wildly for the last week or so. Unbelievably, the temperature has gone from a scorching ( for me) 22 degrees to a perishingly cold -4 in the space of a few days. What’s all that about?
Last Tuesday was Boofuls’ long awaited hot air balloon flight. That’s worth a whole post to itself but since the subject of this post is the weather, I’ll stick to that.
As we pulled up at the launch site, twenty or so people were stood in tee shirts, sploshing on the suncream and dusting off their sunglasses. Me and the dog lurked in the nearest bit of shade while everyone else waxed lyrical about how wonderful the weather was for March, that and spouting out all the expected jokes: “Hur hur hur, Hope this isn’t all the summer we’re getting.” Sigh. God loves an optimist.
Mind you – he might have had a point.
Fast forward to this week.
Mornings are spent in front of the wardrobe pondering about what the weather might do today. Even over the course of a day it is changing so drastically that no-one really knows what to wear.
The end result is that a stroll through the town centre becomes an urban fashion show of eclectic mixes of clothing never before seen in public. Mini skirts worn with winter fur boots, sandals or flip flops with warm winter trousers. The younger girls have generally gone for the ‘Yay! It’s summer!’ look and totally embraced stringy vest tops and sandals accessorised with blue arms and lips which does rather spoil the whole ‘Yay! It’s summer’ look. Of course the universally acclaimed leggings and muffin top is still very popular whatever the season. Me? I’ve played it safe and gone for layers, lots and lots of layers.
Walking on the moors yesterday morning with the snow blowing horizontally and the wind trying it’s best to blow over we hardy dog walkers as we tried to catch a breath, it was so strong. That was in direct contrast to yesterday evening when it was warm, still and positively balmy – or do I mean barmy? Layers y’see. Whip off half a dozen layers and the job’s a good ‘un – except for the fact you then have to carry them all.
Weather eh? What else would we have to talk about if we didn’t have our good old unreliable English weather? Bring on the Pimms, I do believe it’s Pimms o’clock!
Now that’s how you know it’s summer!