If there are two constants in British life they are the weather and our desire to speak about it. Without wanting to drone on about it I would like to just let everyone know that weather is under the realm of Ms Nature. For those that don’t read me regularly Ms Nature is the nefarious, nasty, man hating variant of Mother Nature. Think how your ex wife went bad, same deal between Mr and Mrs Nature, in short the woman’s a bitch! I was delighted to read an email from Vicky the other day where she made the effort to distinguish between Ms and Mother Nature, keep up the good work. It’s quite a simple division of tasks, Mother Nature does all your flowers, smiles and sunshine while Ms Nature is out there making toothache and kicking footballs in your nuts.
It takes a bank holiday to realise that weather lies with Ms Nature. For those that are not familiar with the concept of bank holidays (hey this is read in over 40 countries) they have nothing to do with banks. At some point somebody will sue and the government will remain them “another day on the piss”. I don’t think that this will happen for a while though because having told us that the banks are responsible for the recession, the decline in jobs and pretty much everything else that’s bad they need some good press. And so it is that we plan a weekend of excess because it is a three day weekend due to the bank holiday.
Now Ms Nature can’t let this pass, she starts with a severe weather warning that pretty much covers the coast for Saturday. Your good old English tourist ignores this because we all remember Michael Fish telling us that only mad women thought storms happened in the summer. Having spent half of Friday in nose to tail traffic your tourists are ready for the beach on Saturday. Now the weatherman was right, for a change, and torrential rain hits, hey you were already wet in the sea weren’t you? Sunday improves but your good day, your good day is Monday, a proper scorcher. Do you see what she has done here? You’re gonna be stuck in the same nose to tail traffic all the way home in scorching heat. Like a criminal genius, or a once loved wife she has thoroughly pissed on your bonfire.
In other news, I’m winding inextricably and slowly towards drawing a line under the accident and restarting life, still some hurdles to go but the end line is in sight. This morning I reviewed some forums for people moving to the island, its always good to learn. One of the biggest concerns was making friends, seriously that is a concern of an adult. These people are moving from the mainland, they talk the same bloody language how hard can it be? Some research revealed that apparently your average 30-40 year old female is still only friends with her school year. What is the matter with these people, go and see the world. I can see how this would be the case in deprived UK neighbourhoods where girls are pregnant before they leave school and rarely move to a different street, but really do none of these people have a life? I have one friend that I stay in touch with since school, not because I went to the same school as him, not because we live in the same town but because he is a bloody good bloke.
I actually read one serious post that suggested getting a puppy to break the ice. That is the advice you give a paedophile* not an adult moving address. How is walking a puppy going to make you friends? Introduce yourself over the poo bin perhaps or hey you could get your number printed on those little bags that you put the shit in! It would be like a practical business card. On a positive note perhaps I have worked out why all those lone women of my age ignore me, its not because I’m drunk or because I’m obnoxious its because they are not skilled in the ways of making friends. I would like to offer to support these poor bewildered women if they simply give me a sign. Now we could have a coloured hat or a hand gesture but, as a single male, I would like to suggest topless. Remove your upper garments and even if I’m not there so how quick you make friends then!!
*The iPad couldn’t spell this so I had to google it, if I get run over and die today then please remember that is why paedophile is in my browser history, I wasn’t trying to make friends!