I’m getting sick of people moaning about the weather. I think we must be at record levels of weather complaining and I have somehow managed to come up with a theory as to why that is. Not only that, I think that this is nothing new, that people have always moaned about the weather. And those people are invariably old people, like me.
Having started off by criticising others for moaning about the weather, specifically wet weather, it is only right that I fess up to the fact that I do, too. And having got soaked coming back from the food bank (did I mention I was a volunteer worker?) both yesterday and today, I did my fair share of whingeing. But was I always like that? Were all of us oldies always like this? Absolutely not.
It’s time I come to the point and my point is that a large number of people who complain about the weather are old people and particularly old people who have a lot of time on their hands. I reckon that younger people spend less time fretting about the weather because they are preoccupied with things like work or bringing up children.
Since I left the wacky and overrated world of full-time work, I suppose I have paid more attention to the weather than I used to, but then, I’ve had time to do a lot of other things too, most of which are completely unaffected by the sun, the wind and the rain. I’ve also had plenty of time to reminisce, as elderly people are prone to do, and I thought about my childhood in the Bristol suburb of Briz (Brislington). I certainly don’t recall endless sunny days, certainly not if we went out with my grandad on a fun-packed Sunday drive to Chew Valley Lake, or even Priddy Pools if I was really lucky. It pissed with rain, just as it did on the rare occasions we went on holiday.
Our holiday place of choice was a small caravan in West Bay, Dorset AKA Broadchurch. Me, my mum, her mum and both paternal grandparents in a tiny van with no toilet or cooking facilities. We went twice, maybe three times maximum, and never once did we venture onto the beach. I remember gazing out at the caravans next to us as the rain battered on the windows and every time I went to the toilet block, I had to brave what felt like a monsoon. Deep joy. So for old people, what on earth are we thinking about when we bleat on about the weather?
“If England was sunny all the time,” goes the old saying, “no one would ever go abroad”, which may well be true, but just imagine how busy the country would be if we all stayed at home? But it’s a point not worth making because England isn’t sunny all the time and climate change could make things even worse on the dampness stakes.
If one really does need warm, settled weather in their lives, then perhaps it’s best that they move to warmer climes, if they still can after the disastrous Brexit. Or if that’s not what they want to do – and there’s no way on earth I would – then why not do more stuff and keep one’s brain ticking over instead of worrying what the next day’s weather might bring.
