When I was writing my weekly ‘what I talked about’ post (see below), the one thing that kept coming to mind (beyond wine, but I blame that on FebFast) was the weather. The last week has been too rainy or too sticky or too hot or too damn something every single day. I have had countless conversations about the weather. I think it’s genetic.
The older you get, the more you become like your parents. Hence I now watch The Bill (and not just for Smiffy), love my garden and talk about the weather. I have not yet reached the stratospheric heights of The Builder, who shooshes us all at 5.57pm so that he can concentrate on what Tim Bailey is telling him about the minimum overnight temperature. But I’m working on it.
I blame my Dad (hi Dad!). This is a man who keeps a diary. The only thing in the diary is a record, each day, of the minimum and maximum temperatures for the day, as forecast by the TV weatherman. He writes this down every day. Underneath it, written the next day, is the actual minimum and maximum temperatures. I kid you not. You can see at a glance how accurate the whole process is.
Occasionally, he goes crazy and writes down an outstanding news event. The day Jennifer Hawkins lost her skirt on the runway was described as ‘Whoops, Jennifer Hawkins’. Only the big stuff makes it to the comment stage.
When I first read this diary (it was open, really) I was in fits of laughter. Who would go to the trouble of doing this? But now it makes a lot more sense. It’s a legacy, in its own way. If you ever need to know the forecast weather, for any day of the year, any year, and the actual weather that occurred on that day, just ask my Dad. He’s got that info right there at his fingertips. It’s climate change as it happens.
Given how much we all talk about the weather, Dad’s on his way to a national consulting role. Just you wait. Kevin07 will be calling one day. If only to check Dad’s availability for the Independent Inquiry Into Weather Reporting In This Country. Yep, any day now.