The Elusive British Sunshine

Spring in 2013 has been rather complicated. Traditionally spring meets us with sunny skies coupled fittingly with soaring temperatures and street-roaming shirtless idiots. The final days of March, however, saw winter spew into its fifth successive month of misery. Intertwined with scenes of indifference, the first days of spring were marked with frosty winds and feeble dustings of ‘snow’. The melancholy month of March was a marked disappointment from start to finish.

Many wondered whether we had been ported to Westeros where, much like Croydon, winters can last decades. Then, however, came April, and with it the sunshine. All while I sat hunched in dark room typing a strongly-worded article little more useful than looking out the window (two weeks ago).

This article was initially written with the purpose of bemoaning the torrid weather London had been exposed to via a mix of carefully crafted Game of Thrones references and blinding rage. The sludgy streets and slippery pavements which became a mainstay of late March did little more than ‘Scrooge’ us into a nation of grumbling, growling Grinch-like fiends. However, a complete polar shift in weather means the article I previously wrote (now entirely redundant) has instead been replaced with a particularly angry appraisal of the sunshine – and the promotion of two very important lessons.

The first lesson is simple. You can never trust the weather to follow through on anything. So, I’ve been betrayed a little… it’s not all about me.

Although it might look a bit nice outside, you’ll still need four layers of wool and a smidge of delusion to avoid shivering to the point of muscle fatigue. The sun’s only real use, at the moment, serves to blind those moronic enough to stare into the sky expecting an imminent North Korean nuclear strike. Spring’s actually done little more than dangle false hope in front of us all ahead of the imminent gloom to come.

If the Met Office, who often prove as useful as plunging radio antennae through your skull, are to be trusted, then winter may be about to make an untimely comeback. But wait – trust the Met Office? Haven’t I just contradicted myself?

This brings us to the second lesson. You can never trust an assessment made by me ever.

In this article’s previous iteration I so confidently proclaimed: ‘peer about the corner and bear witness to four pending weeks of icy bitterness followed by an ever-familiar rain-laden pseudo-summer. It’s all downhill from here.’

While I’ve been somewhat shown up, I still maintain the sentiment. It’s all downhill from here. Though, I wouldn’t hold me to that.

Haven’t you learnt anything?

Image by joanneconlon courtesy of Flickr