The Weather

There was a recent article in the Daily Mail (a trusted UK newspaper) that said Brits spend six months of their life talking about weather… averaging 49 hours per year. If you are keeping track, that’s nearly one hour per week (almost 14 minutes per day), devoted to weather.

I initially thought that statistic sounded very wrong. But, then I lived in England for three years.

The Brits are obsessed with weather. They talk about it all the time.

And, to be fair… they need to stay on top of it. The weather literally changes every three minutes. You could be walking through lovely Richmond Park gazing at the grazing does, when you hear the crack of thunder and need to run for cover.

I may not know much about Doppler Radar – but I’m pretty sure England weather forecasters know even less – because the forecast is always WRONG. You will dress for sun, and get rain. Or you will dress for rain, and get sun!

Having lived in England for three years, I will say that you need to carry an umbrella AT ALL TIMES and a spare pair of underwear AT ALL TIMES (the underwear is unrelated to the weather forecast, just a handy tip for those with urinary tract issues).

Someone once told me that if it starts to rain, just pop into a pub for a pint of ale (or beer) and when you come out again the rain will have stopped. This turned out to be a FACT. (And yes, I developed a drinking problem while living in England.)

The article also said that Brits discuss weather to alleviate awkward silences.




Anyway, it’s 18 °C in Burbank, California today.

(They’re right… it does alleviate awkward silences. Like that one, just there.)

Since moving to California (the Golden State), I have noticed something (other than my address labels read: California). I have noticed that I have a lot more time on my hands… approximately 49 more hours… every year!

Californians don’t talk about the weather. They look up. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. There is no rain. There is a small amount of wind. There is nothing more to say.

Now, when there is an awkward silence (and there always is), I have to just let it be super awkward, or start talking about how much I love sheep.



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