Oh my my my my July*
Were I to believe in a god or supreme being of some kind, the sort of deity that watches over us and controls all around us (except, I understand, for our free will), I would be justified in thinking that said god was taking the piss.
It’s July for Christ’s sake (and yes, I recognise the irony of invoking the name of Christ given my opening paragraph but it’s more of a swearing thing than a religious one). What’s with the weather? I’ve been on my career break for over two months now and the last time I saw the sun for any length of time was out of the window in work. It’s rained for pretty much every day of the last two months. I had dreams of breakfast on my deck. Of expeditions to peculiar places. Of doing some work in the garden. Instead, I sit inside every day, looking at the rain dash off the window-pane, growing paler and paler until, some time in the near future, I’m sure I will resemble one of those weird white animals that live deep in caves and never see daylight. It’s not on.
I understand that even the Tennis has been vastly delayed by the rains. I’m guessing that it’s also been held up as the players sit, crying in their dressing rooms and discussing their Seasonal Affective Disorder with highly-paid sports psychotherapists.
Just a few minutes ago, as it seemed like there might actually be a few hours without rain, I dispensed with some of my house-husbandry duties. Out with the washing. Mmmmmm. Nice line-dried clothes, I thought. I ventured out, blinking nervously, to actual sunlight. Started popping the clothes on the line and, literally, before I was finished it started to rain. I didn’t even get them all on the line before the rain started. If that’s not taking the piss, I don’t know what is.
Give me a break, will you?
.
* I hate Mundy
