Some summer

Well the summer of 2012, here in the UK, has gone down in history. The wettest May,June and July since records began in 1910, which is 102 years if maths isn't your strong point. And boy was it wet.

Now where I live it was certainly wet but we avoided any serious flooding. Unlike many other parts of the country. I lost count of how many times we heard that "a month's worth of rain fell in a single day". That's a lot of rain. And earlier in the, er, summer, there was also a spectacular irony in a number of areas around Britain where people found themselves under hosepipe bans, whilst watching a river meander through their living room.

And it wasn't just the physical effects of all the rain and flooding. Psychologically, us poor Brits were suffering too. Day after day of dark clouds, driving rain and decidedly chilly temperatures was beginning to make us feel rather depressed. Summer is always much anticipated here and to find out that one week in April looked like being our entire summer, was pretty hard to take. A bit like expecting a new iPad for Christmas and instead, receiving a box of haemorrhoid cream.

It turns out that the jetstream (that ribbon of fast-flowing air that zips around the world up in the troposphere) was to blame. It was stuck south of the UK and was dragging cold air down from the Arctic, which was causing all the horrendous weather. Bastard. Well the good news is that the jetstream has stopped behaving like a recalcitrant child and has finally shunted itself back up north. Oh joy. Joy like you can't imagine.

Two weeks ago, it was a slamming down with rain and the temperature was an abysmal 14 degrees Centigrade (or 57 degrees Fahrenheit). Today, as I sit in the garden writing this, it is sunny with blue skies and a thoroughly perfect 26C (79F).

Summer has arrived and so have my happy feet.

Sunburn

My head hurts. And it's all my fault. When the sun comes out in England everyone goes bonkers-mental. The lids come off the convertibles, the shirts come off the fellas and the legs come out from the girls. Yes, as soon as there's the slightest hint of summer, or even a half decent spring day, we all behave like simpletons.

This is extremely uncool - they don't behave like this in Holland or Yemen or Turkmenistan. No, it's only here in good old Blighty that we treat a bit of sun as something akin to the second coming. We flock to the nearest park, beach, garden or section of un-urinated-upon city centre bench, remove as many items of clothing as is legal and attempt to turn our fetid, clammy, winter skin into a gorgeous, Amazonian bronzed body. In about 4 hours.

The result of this clearly stupid activity is of course - sunburn. Yet millions of us do it every year despite all the warnings and advice to stay out of the sun, cover up and live in a cupboard. At least some of us make a token gesture by slapping some suntan lotion on but even then we are crap. How often have you tried to apply suncream to your own back? You sort of contort you arms behind you whilst flailing around with your lotion-smeared fingers, desperately trying to make contact with that super-elusive area between your shoulder blades. Realising this is impossible and likely to dislocate one or both of your upper limbs, you concede defeat, leaving your back to redden, become crispy and cause your hours of relentless agony.

And that is the essence of sunbathing in Britain. It's like fast food tanning. We want to be brown and we want it now! And I too am one of those simpletons who despite some token lotion-applying, still secretly reckon that a tan comes much more quickly without it. I don't think I'll ever learn but I wish I had because my forehead is h-o-t .

If only I had hair.

Ups and downs

We all have our ups and downs and despite being a blogging legend, I too can feel the force of life's highs and lows. Winter doesn't help. Especially the miserable sodding affair that is the British winter. Rain, rain and more rain. It's enough to depress Mr Happy Hap McHappy from Happytown in Happyshire.

Nonetheless, us Brits are used to cack weather and so find ways and means of distracting ourselves during the long, dark winter months. One of these ways is to talk about the weather. Whilst meteorology is a fascinating subject, you can have too much of it, particularly when you've been getting soaked, blown and frozen by it for weeks on end. So I don't talk about the weather much between November and March.

Instead I prefer to revel in the joys of films, my Xbox 360, football, my iMac, food, shiny electrical objects of desire and my wife. Obviously this list is written in reverse order. So when confronted by a really crappy winter's day, I cheer myself with an hour or two of high definition machine-gunning and grenade-lobbing, followed by a joyous time in the kitchen, preparing my latest tuna-based culinary delight and topped off with a cracking film starring Sandra Bullock or that woman out of that film with the hair and eyes.

Suffice to say I have plenty of ammo in happy-happy-joy-joy arsenal to keep the winter blues at bay. However, talking of 'blues' - Birmingham lost today which has put me in a foul mood so I'm going to bed.

Winter my arse.

Non-horticulurist

Following on from my posting expressing incrdeulity at the appearance of a rose in November, I've since been advised that this is, in fact, entirely normal. I'm gutted. I thought I'd discovered a once-in-a-lifetime event with important climactic consqequences.

Er, no.

A rosy future?

I kid you not. I tell you no lie. As God is my witness. I swear on my life. I promise you. It's mid-November right? I live in the northern hemisphere which means that November is winter, right? Winter is very cold and it is a time when all the flora in your garden either stops growing or dies. Hope you're still with me.

So winter is not spring or summer, traditionally seasons where things grow. OK, good. I just wanted to clarify that. Why then, in the winter, in the UK has a rose just flowered in my front garden? It really has just appeared in the last few days. In fact there may even be two of the amazing little buggers sitting pretty amongst all the wintery deadness. I have to admit that I'm quite staggered by this. It's not even as if a rose that flowered in the summer has managed to stay alive until now. This actually bloomed during the winter.

So is this the effect of global warming? Has the weather been so incredibly mild that this bog-standard little flower thought it was spring or summer and decided that it must be time to pop it's head above the parapet? If so, that's a tad concerning.

However, it could just be an unusual freak of nature that, whilst uncommon, is not completely unheard of and is not in fact an indication of impending global doom. Either way, it's really quite impressive but I'm sure the neighbours think we're carrying out genetic research on the vegetation.

Which would explain the size of my marrows.

A ridge too far

We had a tornado. Yes we bloody well did. Yesterday morning at about 6.20am. Honestly we did. It may have only been an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow polka-dot bikini of a tornado but it still happened.

And even if it wasn't a tornado, it sounded like one - a great roaring noise followed by the terrible sound of utter destruction and devastation. Yes, we suffered damage to our house. One of ridge tiles was ripped from its' very foundations and smashed into a billion pieces ... on the drive next to my wife's car.

This was all very exciting and scary. Not quite hurricane Katrina I grant you but this is Britain and we have to make the most of dangerous weather. It was quite rainy too. In fact there was a major flood at my work. A large area of carpet got soaked when a drain outside overflowed. It was total chaos ... until the maintenance man got the wet-vac on the case. Again, not exactly the Indian ocean tsunami of 2004, but still ...

I am mourning the loss of that little ridge tile

Daniel Corbett!

He is the most brilliantly berserk BBC weatherman ever. Notice his amazing and bizarre hand gestures, hear his fantastic tips such as "it's a two-hand-on-the-brolly-day today" and "so the extra-thick blankets on hand through the course of the night". A friend of mine at work does a great impersonation of him which always makes me laugh. Daniel Corbett - you gotta love him.

And so...

My mind's a blank 'cos I can't think of anything exciting to tell you so I've simply posted a photo that I took last week. Hope you like it and I promise to post some thrilling stuff as of next week. And for those of you that got 4 inches, lucky you.

I'm talking snow ...

Snow my a**e

We've been warned all week about the impending severe weather, in the form of snow, which was due to "blanket" much of England today. OK so some parts of the UK really did have enough snow to cause a bit of disruption but honestly! All the TV stations had reporters around the country telling us how "appalling" and "treacherous" conditions were as they stood next to completely snow-free roads full of cars zooming along without a care in the world. The snow was just melting immediately on the super-gritted roads and even away from the roads, the snow was only lying about 2cm deep. It was hilarious seeing these reporters trying their damnedest to make the whole thing look and sound exciting and dangerous, when it wasn't.

Of course at the slightest hint of snow, schools are shut, the trains get cancelled, airports close and traffic grinds to a halt for no reason. Sure, there really were some places that did get a massive (9cm) of snow but you'd think we'd just entered a bloody ice age. However, what really annoyed me was that we actually got bugger all. It 'snowed' for about 4 hours but it was that really crappy snow that looks like miniscule pieces of polystyrene. All it did was waft about for a bit, land and melt. Rubbish. We'd being getting ready for a white-out and all we got was a feeble sprinkling of icing sugar.

"Blanket" of snow? More like a bloody tea towel.

Bugger

I have forgotten to post for the last few days and there's only 10 mins left of Sunday. I had a work trauma on Saturday which was quite dramatic but as I don't tell you about my work (for reasons of international security) I can't divulge any more. Suffice to say it involved an ambulance, 400 people and me being the focus of much attention.

We went for a big walk today and it felt like summer. I even saw a butterfly. Honest to God. My wife and I feel super-chilled after 4 hours in the lovely, sunny countryside. My wife actually said that the unseasonably warm temperatures (caused by global warming) "made you feel better". Well that's that then. Always look on the bright side. Hope you like the photo - it's one I took today.

I'm sure the sun is getting closer.

55 degrees? In February?

Yes it's all too true. The temperature outside my house at 1.31pm today was 55 degrees farenheit (12.7 C) which is, well, frankly wrong. Apparantly, this January was the warmest in the UK since 1916 which is before even I was born.

Now whilst these mild temperatures are a great way to save money on the old heating bills, it's not so good for the flora and fauna. We've already got flowers starting to emerge which aren't due to appear for another 6-8 weeks and only yesterday I saw a bee wafting around the herbacious borders. Now assuming that we do actually get a bit of proper winter soon, the bees and the daffs are going to get nailed by any hard frost that turns up. Not good news if your a bee or a flower.

Having thought about it, there was only one night in the whole of January where we had a frost. That's berserk. I also learned today that grass grows when the temperature is above 5 degrees C. And true to form, our grass is growing like mad. I'm actually going to have to do some mowing - in February! Well, if this is global warming, we'd better start getting used to some big changes and I don't just mean winter grass growth either. Things could get serious much earlier than the boffins have predicted and I don't believe we're ready for it. A sobering thought indeed.

Oh well, at least we'll save money on foreign holidays.

A chill wind

Well it looks like winter has finally arrived here in Blighty. Sort of. This morning we have snow. To be more accurate, it's like someone has run round the streets with a bag of icing sugar and given everywhere the lightest dusting imaginable. So it's not exactly skiing weather but it is only the second time in the whole winter that the temperature has actually dropped to normal levels.

Weird. I suppose it's indicative of the ever-popular global-warming and if you think about it, it's hard to ignore. I've only had to scrape ice off my car twice since winter began. That's unheard of. In the newspaper the other day, they reported that the re had been a number of nighttime temperatures in December that were warmer than June, which is really bonkers.

Then we've been having all these stormy weeks full of wind and rain with 11 people being killed in the UK the other week as a direct result of the weather. Yet, until today, we've had no snow, ice or even cold temperatures for the whole of January. Surely that's not right.

Who'd be a snowman?

Cor blimey, a tornado

I was talking the other day about the lack of severe weather recently. Now I'm not advocating meteorologically-induced death and destruction, just a bit of flooding, heavy snow or strong winds. Strong winds, yes but surely not tornadoes? Well, as you may or may not know, we do get a few 'tornadoes' in the UK each year although these tend to be ickle, teensy-weensy efforts that may just manage to lift a bobble hat off a toddler or whip a stray raspberry from an outdoor trifle. However we don't usually get full bifters tornadoes like the one that hit part of London the other day.

OK, so it's not quite the F5 tornado that nailed Oklahoma a few years back but it was still pretty impressive by UK standards. However, being England, there had to be a funny side. I was watching the news and they were reporting on the whole thing. They were interviewing eye witnesses and most people were quietly saying how shocking and unbelievable it all was. Suddenly this mad Londoner appeared. She was very excited and was describing this "major tornado". The best bit was when she said the following (picture it - eyes wide, hair all over the place and talking like a rabid goat-herder)- "... it was so loud and you could hear the wind rushing through the house ... it sounded like the doors were going to be ripped off and they nearly were!" Brilliant. 'The doors were ripped off'. No-one died, her house wasn't torn from it's foundations but a door nearly came adrift from it's frame.

Now that's cutting edge reporting for you.

A touch of wind

Well the forecasters say there's going to be a 'vigorous storm' in the south and central parts of the UK tonight. Crikey. Now if you happen to live in 'tornado alley' in the U.S or in just about anywhere in S.E Asia or indeed many other parts of the world, you'll be more than used to severe weather. However, here in dear old Blighty our weather is, usually, fairly benign.

Mind you, things are a changin'. This summer for example was, if I recall correctly, the hottest ever in the UK. Also, the water table (the level of underground water) is at it's lowest level since records began and has been getting worse in the last few years. We certainly seem to be having more regular extremes of weather anyway. The perception (in Hollywood films at least) of the UK as being permanently shrouded in fog is seriously inaccurate. Nowadays it's either face-melting sun or enough rain to give Noah's Ark a good outing, meaning that we keep breaking all sorts of meteorological records.

Let's hope tonight's 'breeze' isn't one of them.

Good ol' global warming

Now I know the imminent demise of our fair planet is both extremely serious and wholly depressing but surely 'every cloud has a silver lining'? Take yesterday for example (see the photo). It was the 29th of October, in England and it was 64 degrees. Not only that, the air was still and the sky was blue. Warm sun blazed down on the river and the canal as dozens of people enjoyed a beautiful summer-like stroll.

Of course the downside of this idyllic scene is that it is being generated (so some scientists say) by the burning of fossil fuels, CFC's, carbon emissions and all the other fun activities we humans have been getting up to in the last couple of centuries. I suppose we should have known that all this naughty behaviour would eventually cause a cataclysmic environmental disaster but to be honest, who cared? The only people who ever used to get upset about this sort of thing were baggy jumper-wearing, tent-dwelling, humungously-bearded activists. Some of them were men too. Well, it appears that this little Earth of ours is becoming distinctly unwell and unfortunately there is no planetary health scheme which can help repair it.

As it all seems so hopeless and depressing, I reckon we might as well enjoy the benefits of a global warming. So if that means a warm autumnal walk, a blistering summer's day at the beach or an exciting local flash flood then I think we should just go with the flow / deluge. Now maybe that all sounds a bit dismissive and lacking in any genuine concern for the environment. However, aside from doing my bit - recycling household waste, switching off lights and turning down the central heating - what else can I do that the industries and governments of the world cannot?
I do what I can and after that? Sod it. Slap on the suntan lotion and catch some rays is what I say. I mean, you're born and then you die so you may as well enjoy the bit in the middle.

Even if it means burning like a spit-roasted pig. Vegetarian option available

What is Autumn for?

When you talk about dying, most people say something like "I hope I go quickly" which is a truly sensible way of thinking. No-one wants a lingering death do they? So why the bloody hell does Autumn come along every year to drag out the whole miserable descent into the valley of death - Winter?

Winter in Britain is depressing enough without two months of doom-laden pre-amble. Not only do the nights get slowly gloomier and gloomier but the leaves on all the trees slowly die and then rot in great mounds while dank and dismal fog shrouds the landscape like the Grim Reaper's death shroud. It's such a painful journey from Summer into Winter and it would be so much better without it.

So, how much better and more fun would it be if you went straight from one season into the next? Imagine - 85 degrees, blazing sunshine and melting roads one day; 5 degrees below freezing, snow and icy roads the next. It would be chaos - especially in Britain as we're abysmal at dealing with even the slightest fluctuation in our weather. When it gets a bit warm we get water shortages and hosepipe bans. When it gets a bit cold we get gridlock on the roads and power cuts. So an instant switch from Summer to Winter would be a right laugh. So, Autumn - it's a waste of time and effort and we don't need it.

Spring can stay though. You want a nice slow-burn build-up to Summer. That great feeling that things are getting better, warmer, brighter and greener as Summer gets ever closer. Lambs gambolling in verdant meadows; daffodils swaying in a warming breeze and politicians canvassing for local elections. You can't beat Spring.

Unless you include Summer. But not Winter. Or Autumn.

Heatwave!

Living in England we are used to crap weather. Summers are invariably disappointing and winters seem to go on for ever. We have to make the most of good weather. There's a TV advert on here at the momement which epitomises the 'British summer'. It portrays everyone in the country waiting for the sun to appear from behind a huge cloud which indicates that summer has begun. People rush outside, slap on suntan lotion in a mad frenzy and generally go bonkers in an attempt to grab some precious rays. Then, just minutes later, the sun disappears and summer is over.

This year is a bit different. Last week we had the hottest July day in Britain since records began. Wisley in Surrey reached 36.5C (97.7F) which beat the record for the month from 1911. But it's not just the record-breaking I'm talking about, but the length of time we've been having this weather.

Pretty much the whole of July has been hot and sunny. My forehead is in danger of looking like a piece of bacon and the cat is heading for an all over shave if things stay as they are. We've had gritters spreading crushed rock to stop roads melting, schools closing because of the heat and restrictions on water usage around the country.

Now many countries around the world deal with these sort things every day but this is the UK and we're just not used to it. In the Spring, the first time the sun pops out and the temperature is above freezing, young men begin zooming around in their crappy Ford Escort convertibles with the roof down. If the temperature becomes warm enough for just a light coat, the barbeques start to appear and people bravely stand in cold, damp back gardens and pretend it's summer (see a previous post on this). So it's not surprising we're all going bonkers about the official (so says the Met Office) heatwave and loving hearing that it's hotter hear than everywhere else on the entire planet. Almost.

Put another Tesco Value burger on the barbie! Vegetarian options available

Ooh, floaty light

Oh yes. I finally had my birthday balloon ride on Monday and it was wonderful. However, due to technical reasons, I can't give you an actual photo from the big event just yet so you'll have to make do with this one for now.

Anyway, what a fantastic time I had. This despite the fact that it was in the high 80's (even at 7pm) and that there was nil wind. A breeze of some description is kind of a pre-requisite of ballooning and so the the distinct lack of even the faintest breath of wind was a cause of mild concern.

Eventually, however, we got it up (pause for sniggers) and slowly began to see the green fields sinking below us as we started our flight. The very still air did provide the odd puff of air which ensured we didn't just go straight up, hang there for an hour and then come straight back down. We actually managed to travel about 5 miles over the baking Derbyshire countryside as the sun began to set. It was truly beautiful and extremely peaceful as my seven fellow passengers and pilot entered a quiet reverie for much of the hour-long flight.

The only thing that shattered the peace was the bloody propane burners that kept us aloft. The noise was pretty loud, but the heat was the real culprit. For those of you that know me, the top of my head has a small clearing on it which means that it is rather good at feeling the heat. Well when you have four bloody great flames roaring inches from your balding pate you tend to notice it. Coupled with the fact that even at 6000 feet (1,828m) up it was still 86 degrees, my bonce felt like a par-boiled potato at times.

Despite the slight head-heating issue, the whole experience was just amazing. The landing was superb - two small bumps and we were sitting pretty in a large field filled with thistles and cowpats. Perfect. The post-flight champers wasn't bad either, especially as it got everyone a bit jolly for the hilarious return journey to the launch site in the back of a steamy Land Rover.

Same time next week then...

British BBQ's

Well I've just got back from my brother-in-law's birthday BBQ. It's nearly mid-April remember. Unfortunately, it's nearly mid-April in England. Thus, it poured with rain. It sleeted. It snowed for a few minutes too. The highest temperature during the day was 7 degrees C (44 degrees farenheit). We had to erect a tarpaulin to keep the BBQ dry and we had to eat indoors due the bitterly cold wind and driving rain. Being from England, we're used to the British weather. However, being from England, we also tried manfully to tough it out but the starters (tortillas and dips) were becoming waterlogged so we had to take cover inside. However, the BBQ triumphed underneath the plastic sheet and the booze helped our spirits even more. And so the Great British BBQ lived to fight another day.

Our baps got wet though...

Miserable, miserable weather

Oh it's so depressing. Day after day of freezing temperatures and dark grey skies. English winters are not an a fun experience. Certainly, there are places in the world that are colder or have more snow but few places are so interminably dreary. I'm feeling even worse as I write this because it's cold and grey outside .... again.

You get to a point (usually end of January/start of February) when you find yourself looking for any glimmer of hope, any sign at all that Spring may be on it's way. Things like shoots pushing their way up through the soil, buds appearing on trees or young male drivers with the roof down on their 1989 Ford Escort convertible.

Well I suppose something will have to change soon and I hope it does. I've tried standing under the ceiling light in the bedroom to try and trick my brain into releasing endorphines. These little beauties make you feel all happy and are triggered by sunlight shining on your head. I've even got a clearing in my hair which allows light to penetrate my scalp more quickly but alas, a 60 watt light bulb obviously doen't have the same power as the sun. The sun is apparently equal to 600 watts per square metre. I don't think my brain has any chance of becoming happy soon.

Roll on the summer.