‘It’s going to be a long, hot, BBQ-summer’ said the Met Office a couple of months ago. Thrilled, we all rushed down to B&Q to buy as many pieces of garden furniture we could afford.
As I sit typing this, rain is lashing against the window and has been doing so all day. Last week, I was travelling back from a customer visit on the M25 in glorious sunshine. Within seconds the sunshine disappeared and the sky was awash with some of the greyest clouds I’ve ever seen. The congestion strewn lanes of the world’s most infuriating motorway were suddenly plunged into darkness, almost quick enough to make you jump. The rain came heavy and fast and was soon so torrential it was difficult to see past the car ahead.
Depending on how you arrived at this blog, you may have seen its strap line: ‘Firmly against global cooling’. And I am, firmly. As the strap line suggests. Global warming, as much a brain-washing, nonsensical, lucrative industry it is, does have one saving grace: it should bring us warmer weather. People in the UK should be rejoicing, not fitting every lamp in their house with bulbs that take longer to light up than the length of time they are required for.
Ok, so if you believe the government approved scientists, Norwich will be lost to sea and many other unimportant areas will also cease to exist. But, from where I’m sitting, if this has the knock on effect of guaranteeing a 40 degree summer in Northampton, then these are sacrifices I’m happy to make.
Getting back to the dismal weather we currently find ourselves in, I do have a little bit of sympathy for Mother Nature. It appears the Weather – unlike our government, banking bosses and Sky News – has been determined to see us through the recession.
Working in the hospitality industry, it is clear to see the affect the early reports of a scorching UK summer have had on customer habits. Combined with a pound that is worth very few dollars and even fewer straw donkeys, it appears us Brits have turned to our homeland for some much needed R&R.
Hotel bookings are up and the coastal destinations once consigned to a seemingly endless stream of grey haired coach parties are enjoying a deserved revival. Apart from Weston Super Mare, hopefully.
How Mrs Nature must be laughing now. Having lured us into a false sense of security, her promises of glorious sunshine have been swiftly whipped from under our feet, leaving us wet, soggy and doing our very best to enjoy the rain soaked 99 flake on a windswept seafront.
At least we’ve got some spare change in our back pocket.