Skip to main content

Let's all play Bank Holiday Top Trumps!

Thanks, Mother Nature.

After a tantalising taste of sunshine and warmth over the weekend, Bank Holiday Monday was, once again, wetter than a goldfish’s living room.

Still, it wasn’t a complete waste of an otherwise perfectly good Monday, was it? Being British, some of us will have attempted to soldier on determinedly, whilst muttering “It’s just a bit of rain! Come on, it’ll be fun!” and hoping that someone would believe us, or at least go along with it for a bit.

I reckon there is a good case for turning our Bank Holiday mud bath into a fun game for all the family though. So I’ve come up with some categories for Bank Holiday Top Trumps. Who can score the highest in each category? How exciting!

1) Car Boot Sales turned into a less amusing version of ‘It’s A Knockout’ by the weather, with people desperately trying to sell a bunch of rusting tools, kids clothes, radio cassette players, VHS tapes and Beezer Annuals from 1974, whilst attempting to stay upright with water flung at them from all angles, and the boot of their Volvo estate slowly turning into a paddling pool.

2) Number of weather ‘presenters’ counted on TV trying to put a brave face on the fact that they have to tell you that you might as well stay indoors, unless your favourite thing in the whole wide world is getting damp, or you’re an otter.

3) Largest amount of time spent queuing to get into somewhere, whilst stood behind someone who doesn’t move forwards straight away when the queue moves, leaving a gap you’re scared someone else will jump into, but are too polite/scared to say anything. (Umbrella angst optional.)

4) Number of children saying “I’m booooored!” (It may be necessary to have extra wide playing cards if this category is included, due to the count probably requiring at least four digits.)

5) Amateur sporting events that still go ahead, because they took a lot of planning, and no-one wants to be the one to say “Let’s just call it off and go for a pint instead, eh?”.

6) Cost of the most over-priced, and conversely most disappointing, piece of cake purchased whilst sheltering from the rain when you’re meant to be outside enjoying yourself.

7) Estimated length of the traffic jam you sat in, trying to get back from the somewhat depressing day out with the family, during which one of the kids was sick, and the other one was accused of biting a dog, in an entertaining twist that at least raised the analysis of the day over a large drink later from “complete disaster” to “slightly bizarre complete disaster”.

8) People you saw out of the cafe window wearing walking gear and striding purposefully towards a nearby hill, with a beatific look on their face, which made you comment that they really need some kind of specialist help if that’s their idea of fun.

Bank Holidays. They’re rubbish, aren’t they? Let’s not have another one until August.

This post first appeared in my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday" column in the North West Evening Mail, on the 31st of May 2013. You can view the edited version on their website here They retitled it 'Wet Bank Holidays trump all the rest' which is actually pretty damn clever, isn't it? One sentence was editied out, which was the 'Who can score the highest...', so no great loss.

As is always the case whenever I write a piece about bad weather, it immediately turns warm an sunny, making me look like a moany git by the time it goes into print. Gah.

(Listening to the excellent 'Sounds Of The Sixties' on BBC Radio 2 right now. Splendid!)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Going Underground

The US presidential election and Brexit must have made me more nervous than I’d realised. It seems I’ve created an underground bunker without realising I was doing it. Still – we’ve all done that at some point, right? No? Ah... In that case, the fact that I have inadvertently turned my cellar into a rudimentary survival shelter, just in case it all kicks off, demonstrates a severe case of bunker mentality. Fretting about Donald and his wall, and Hillary and her emails, clearly made me more paranoid that I thought about the possibility of WW3 kicking off. Whilst attempting to find a specific size of imperial washer the other day (turns out I’d mis-filed it in the nut cabinet – Tsk!) I was struck by what a lot of jam and chutney we have in the cellar. And I do mean a LOT. There are boxes of boiled-up sugar and fruit and more boxes of boiled up vinegar and fruit. We’re still only part way through 2015’s output too. Then there’s the plastic containers holding pasta in various for...

Faking it for real

As Donald “I’m really great, everybody says so” Trump is so fond of pointing out, there is a lot of fake news around nowadays. Honest. Your friends at Facebook think so too, and have recently been publishing their top tips for spotting false news – by placing them as ads in newspapers. Considering they came in for considerable criticism themselves, that’s like shouting “Squirrel!” and pointing at a tree whilst you hastily kick away the prize begonias you just trampled. To help you make sense of this (and because I’m a caring person), I thought I’d run you through their suggestions and help to explain them for you. I know. I’m lovely. 1. Be sceptical of headlines READING THIS ARTICLE WILL IMPROVE YOUR SEX LIFE!!! And explain that catchy headlines, or stuff all in capitals might be a bit iffy. 2. Look closely at the URL You can find out more about this at www.wowyouregullible.com if you want to understand how phony web addresses are a sure sign of dodgyness. 3. Investigate...

Is it cold? Snow way...

Lunch out? Not unless you want snow balls... I’ve got a confession to make.  Lean in a bit, because I’m going to whisper it. Bit more. Did you have curry for tea? OK, good. I’m a weather nerd. There, I said it. When I was growing up, I didn’t want to be an astronaut or a fireman – I wanted to present the weather on the TV. I was lining myself up for a career at the Met Office when, at about 18 years of age, I discovered I was allergic to studying. Anyway, despite a jam-packed and varied career over the subsequent years, I still have a fascination for the world of meteorology. I even have one of those clocks that projects the time and the external temperature onto the ceiling at night, so I can see how cold it is outside whilst lying awake worrying that I might have wasted my life and been more successful with girls if I’d been more into cars than clouds. So far this year, I’ve gazed at a chilly reading of -5C a couple of times, and been grateful for previous sensible ch...