This summed up the weather today: some fine spells but the next bout of rain was never very far away. It also sums up the fact that I was at home and am going to remain here for much of the next eight weeks, so get used to photos of Hebden Bridge.
It’s all over. In the rain that came down for most of the second half, the players of Ashington celebrate with their travelling fans, having won the play-off match 3-0. They get promoted, while hosts Glossop North End are relegated. Number 12 feels the pain.
As a result of my travels down the years I have developed a theory that the general national psyche of particular places is in no insigificant way formed by its weather. A frequent British opinion is, ‘why expect good times to last? Something crap will inevitably come along soon’, and this is applicable both to our feelings about life in general but also the weather. You saw the picture — last Friday was a glorious day. Not any more, not a bit of it. This sun hat cowers under the rain-covered glass, very glad that it is not being worn.
God, more of this crud. 2023 has not so far had vintage weather. But in a week’s time, I will be in the Southern Hemisphere, and whatever else goes on there, I’m damn sure the weather will be a lot warmer, and a lot lighter.
Radiohead had a track on the Hail to the Thief album that basically screamed, ‘The raindrops!’ for a few minutes. I know the feeling. Train strikes don’t help either: there was no reason nor encouragement to leave the house today.
Taken at the same time as yesterday’s shot — and only five minutes after Monday’s. This is as near as I have ever got in 11 years to three consecutive shots at the same time of day. I swear I don’t do these things deliberately, even in the most boring periods.
It’s that time of year when everyone looked outside at a particular point and said to each other — is it really only a quarter to five? We won’t be seeing daylight at that time again until about February. The rain was added atmosphere, but it is still needed. I like the ‘eye’ effect suggested by the lamp.
As with most of the rest of Europe, we haven’t had a great deal of rain in 2022, but it certainly came down today. Time to check the drainage…
Monday saw probably the highest temperatures in recorded British history, at least in some places. Today, it was chucking it down, and cool enough to need a jacket when out in the afternoon. The weather in Britain explains a great deal about the country’s psyche. “What comes, will come. Live with it.”
And still it rains, seemingly without end. The water race at the end of the old millpond in the woods is only rarely filled, and when it is it’s a sign we are once again in the ‘cross fingers and hope’ approach to flood defence. But the town stayed above water — today at least.
Umbra in Latin means ‘shade’, a sign that the umbrella was originally designed to protect against the sun. But this was not the application required in Hebden Bridge this afternoon. I believe this outrage against good weather can officially be termed ‘Storm Dudley’.
Being 42 