I’m finding it hard to settle to anything at the moment, having to make an effort to get on with anything, squeezing out words rather than watching them flow, picking up my pen to scribble out a doodle only to put it down again
Must be the weather – that’s what my mum would say… must be the weather.
Of course I guess most people would agree that the weather really can affect our moods. Sunny days can make us feel good, rainy days (and Sundays) always get us down, and people in
California smile all the time, and Norwegians
are miserable drunks who quite often top themselves.
We’ve all heard of SAD, some of us might even suffer from it, but as with so many things it’s all in the mind, which doesn’t make it any less real, but most of us are no more emotionally powerless against the weather than they are unable to put on a hat.
Or so they say…well, maybe.
How does snow make you feel? For me it’s all cosy duvets and open fires; it makes me feel snug and nostalgic - or at least it does at first… but then it turns to sludge and I feel cheated. The fog makes me feel mysterious – I put on my trench-coat, lower the brim of my fedora, light up another
and hang around on street corners… well, I’m just that sort of a guy. I’ve
never been arrested though, or at least not yet. Storms make me excited. I love the smell of the electricity
in the air and I can watch the flash and fork lightening for hours. Even the
rumbling tremble of the house, as the thunderclap claps, makes me feel great. It’s
the potential danger I think, anything can happen in a storm – IT lives! High winds are pretty exciting too; watching the world whip
up and whirl, listening to the sound of lost souls screaming through the trees,
the thrum of the TV aerial on the cottage roof. And there’s nothing as serene or beautiful as a deep hoar
frost on a cold, sunny morning. A white, jewelled alien world – where’s Jack?
When I had my pier shop I made weather indicators to sell – a bargain at £4.50. I skilfully drilled holes in pieces of old slate that I'd just found and picked up on the beach. I hung them from a piece of knotted Hessian string - six knots, one for each fathom. It was the label that did it though; it told you how to use my Wonderful Welsh Weather Indicator. All you had to do was hang it outside your door – if it was dry the weather was fine, wet and it was raining, cold and it was chilly, hot and it was warm…you get the idea. They sold like hot cakes.
Thinking back to those afternoons on the pier, surrounded by sea and mountains, I think I saw more weather there than anywhere else, before or since. It was the space I think and the huge open sky; nowhere to hide – just me in a glass terrarium surrounded by the elements. One afternoon the wind got so bad I was scared to open the door for fear of the wind blowing all my wind-chimes into the wave whipped sea. I got soaked as I dashed to make my escape – the waves breaking over the pier boards. Another time it was just the rain - torrential and November cold, I dashed the length of the pier to the safety of my car - the Narnia dash I called it... all those old lamp posts one after another. And then there were the sunny days, those beautiful languid sunshine days. Happy times...
There I go again… drifting away. See, I told you I couldn’t settle… must be the weather.
Now where’s my hat?