Tag Archives: Rain

Joke 907

16 Sep

A visitor to Texas once asked, “Does it ever rain out here?”

A rancher replied, “Yes, it does.”

“When?” asked the visitor.

Noah carrying a stack of animals in Noah's Ark.

Noah carrying a stack of animals in Noah’s Ark. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Do you remember that part in the Bible where it rained for 40 days and 40 nights?”

The visitor replied, “Yes, I’m familiar with Noah’s flood.”

“Well,” the rancher puffed up, “we got about half an inch that time.”

source: http://www.jokebuddha.com/Visitor#ixzz2ezuhF5SP

 

Camping: The Art Of Staying Wet Indoors

21 Aug

 

Day Two (Night): Torrential rain, non-stop.

Day Three (Morning): Sun and strong winds.

Day Three (noon-six p.m.): Torrential rain, non-stop.  No stopping. Constant, pounding, ongoing, perpetual, unchanging, relentless, monotonous, uninterrupted rain for six solid hours.

The woman camping alone next door in – I kid you not – a child’s pop-up tent, complete with the necessaries: beer fridge and TV, packed up and went home because she was flooded out.  Our gazebo died and the boys had to disassemble it.

We had a back-up plan for entertainment: lunch, cards and Rhyl Sun Centre. RSC is an indoor pool with slides and waves and things.  In any other country, an indoor pool with slides and waves and things on the beach front would seem daft, but we are talking about Wales.  Wet, wet, wet Wales, where everyone wears cardigans over their bathing suits in August.

The Hub dropped the kids off then came back and dropped off.  

I dogsat and read my Kindle.  I started three books and couldn’t get in to any of them.  Hundreds of books on my Kindle and I couldn’t find something new to enjoy.  It was like having literary cable.

I thought for a moment: I was alone in the wilderness (the Hub was en route); there was little food left; I didn’t know or trust anyone around me.

Time to re-read The Hunger Games.

 

Shock Sighting In Wales

20 Aug

 

We had never seen anything like it.

The sun came out.

It made the mud caused by twelve hours’ rain the previous night become less muddy mud – enough to squelch and spray within a ten metre radius; not enough to lose a shoe.

Way hey!  Way hey!  Off to Rhyl for the day!

Rhyl has a beach.  We did beachy things, including trekking back up from the sea to the bin with dog dirt.  Twice.  I’m sure I lost weight.

We ate junk food, over-priced takeaway food, and our words –  we didn’t want to anger the sun so that it got into a huff and disappeared.  And it didn’t, until the rain took the nightshift.

The kids wasted their money in the arcades and the shops, as every child born since the advent of the railway allowed cheap seaside excursions has done.

Spud climbed a wall right to the top and was given a free stick of rock as a reward.  Later, the rain warped it and we threw it away.

The dogs loved their six-hour walk.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The Hub was too exhausted to braai in the evening, despite spending most of the day sitting down on walls, benches and the occasional stranger, so we bought fresh cooked chicken, ham shanks, salad and bread for dinner.  Yummy, greasy finger food: perfect, and not a problem to clean up afterwards – we just stuck our hands out of the tent doorway and let the rain save us a walk to the utility block.

I was beginning to like Wales.

 

Rain. So What Else Is New?

15 Aug

 

To say we’ve had a lot of rain this year is an understatement.  Trawling my archives, I discover that I was complaining about rain way back in August 2010, so I dug up some facts:

It is the wettest spot on Earth

It is the wettest spot on Earth (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • If you are a UK resident this is a good site for the rain forecast.  Or you could just look out your window.
  • Rainfall is classified as light if not more than 0.10 inch per hour, and heavy if more than 0.30 inch per hour.
  • If the earth were a body, the Amazon rainforest would be its lungs.  It’s got emphysema.  Rainforests used to cover 14% of the earth; now it’s only 6%.  Forty more years and it’s Hello Gobi.  Dull as he is, Sting is clearly on to something.
  • A single pond in Brazil can sustain a greater variety of fish than is found in all of Europe’s rivers.
  • Raindrops can fall at up to 22 miles per hour.  And 22 hours a day, in my experience. 
  • Louisiana is the wettest state in the US: 56 inches a year.
  • One single tree in Peru was found to have forty-three different species of ants.  Okay, they can chop that one down as far as I’m concerned.
  • There is a famous actor called Rain.  Ever heard of him?  Me neither.

    The Rain People

    The Rain People (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • Acid Rain is a real phenomenon; natural precipitation reacts chemically with air pollutants and becomes acidic.  Ouch.  We’re poisoning the ecosystem.  Where’s Sting when you need him?
  • Made out of copper, the Statue of Liberty is corroding because of acid rain; the acid discolours and dissolves the copper.  If it carries on, she’ll be Is That You, Liberty?
  • Mt. Waialeale in Kauai, Hawaii, has up to 350 rainy days every year.  If you think that’s a lot, try living in Stockport.
  • Raindrops change shape as they fall.
  • The world’s heaviest average rain fall (about 430 inches) occurs in Cherrapunji, India, where as much as 87 feet of rain has fallen in one year.  Is that anywhere near Stockport?
  • Rain that freezes before it hits the ground is known as frozen rain.  I got that from a site called ‘Interesting facts about rain.’  I should sue them for false advertising.
  • All the water in the world is all the water we will ever have. The rain and floods we are experiencing are like sloshing drinks from one glass to another.  Finally, a good idea.
  • The umbrella started life as a parasol.  Talk about aspirational.
  • You can make your own rain.  Like we haven’t had enough.  Check out: http://www.essortment.com/all/kidsweatherrai_rsdj.htm.  I’m not posting details here because I don’t want to encourage you.

 

‘You Look So Daft’

7 Jul

Thus spake my beloved husband yesterday,

when I completed my latest challenge.

Writing yesterday’s 101/1001 post coincided with a month’s worth of rain coming down in 24 hours (sadly, no hyperbole there).  It seemed like the perfect opportunity to complete Challenge No. 20: Dance in the rain.

I put on Mango Groove’s Hometalk the best dance track, ever; I’m having it at my funeral – ordered the Hub to pick up his camera, and stepped out into our sodden garden.

Here is the result (excuse the blurry pics – I was moving and it was raining):

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

If you hit the arrow quickly, you can see me dance.

I danced barefoot in the rain for 4.14 minutes.  It was liberating to do something and not give a damn about what anyone else thought of me.  Some of the neighbours must have noticed, given our low fences and shared walls.  I don’t care.  I had a blast.

There was just one problem: it was Peter Kay’s fine rain, and I wasn’t drenched.

Next time I dance in the rain, there had better be a hurricane or the Hub’s going to cop it.

*

*

I Don’t Care What The Weatherman Says

25 Aug
Hurricane

If you controlled the weather, what would it be like outside today?

One of the things I’ve always loved about Britain is the changing seasons.  I like to see blossom on the trees in spring; sunshine in summer; I enjoy kicking leaves in autumn; sitting inside not freezing my butt off in winter.

It’s the height of summer here now, so it’s raining.  I’d like it to be sunny.  I’d like not to be sitting wrapped in a cardi, hoping it will dry up enough to put out the washing currently draped all over the house.  I’d like to know it’s summer and not just a long winter punctuated with one hot day (the day I choose to cook a roast).

The Hub has the perfect system: sunshine all day; rain in the middle of the night when everyone is in bed.

Spud doesn’t care, so long as he can play football/watch football/hit me with a snowball.

Tory Boy lives in another country, so I can’t ask him.  Actually, it’s not another country; it’s an hour’s drive from here; but it might as well be another country for all the time he takes to call his mother.

*

There’s a hurricane in the Atlantic at the moment.  That’s what I call weather.  None of our British seventeen-types-of-rain-wrong-snow-on-the-line-a-hot-day-whip-off-the-vest-and-frighten-the-children wishy-washiness.

The problem with dramatic weather, however, is that it tends to rather inconvenience people unfortunate enough to live in its path; in fact, it tends to be downright vindictive.  I hope those of my readers affected or likely to be affected by Hurricane Irene are well prepared, and stay safe.  I don’t want a disruption to my blog reading.

For an excellent guide to hurricane preparations, read Nancy’s post on what to do.   There is also a link in my blogroll so you can track hurricanes in your area.

*

All this weather talk reminds me of something I once read in Stephen Pile’s The Book Of Heroic Failures; I can’t recall it exactly, but it was a tv station’s apology for their intermittent weather report:

Whether the weather can be brought to you today depends on the weather, whether we like it or not.

The original quote was much funnier but I can’t find it; I did, however, come across a Penguin worksheet for high school students based on The Book Of Heroic Failures (and the media complains exams are getting easier…!).

Here’s an excerpt from the preamble:

Stephen Pile was born in Lincolnshire in 1949. In 1977, when he was 28 years old, he said, ‘I’m never going to write a book’.  The Book Of Heroic Failures was published two years later […] He therefore failed in his ambition never to write a book.

He and others started the Not Terribly Good Club of Great Britain in 1976, but it was such a success that they closed it down.

Good job he’s not in charge of the weather; all we’d have is rain in summer.

O-oh…

*

*

It’s Raining In Stockport, And I’ve Got The Red Eye To Prove It

12 Jan
Reflection in a soap bubble.

Image via Wikipedia

I met a friend at a little café in Stockport for breakfast this morning – £1.60 for tea, and two free slices of toast if you order before ten a.m.  It was worth going out for.  It’s always worth going out for free food.  I won’t mention the outrageous bus fare: £1.60 there, and another £1.60 back, but with no toast thrown in.  That was topped by a thirty-minute wait at a wet bus stop because the traffic was horrendous.

I had my umbrella, of course: what self-respecting Brit woman doesn’t?  Not self-respecting Brit men, though.  British men don’t do umbrellas except in movies with bowler hats.  They prefer to get wet.  They may die of pneumonia brought on by a thorough soaking, but at least they die like men.  Or, to give them their correct title, stupid men.

My umbrella is one of those see-through plastic ones the Queen made popular in the Seventies so that she and the Great Wet British Public could see each other on walkabouts.

(You know, I’ve always considered the Hub with his airline mania to be a real geek, but at least he doesn’t subscribe to ‘Umbrella World’)

My umbrella.  Eye, there’s the rub.  I used it yesterday and left it to dry in the downstairs toilet, propped in a corner under the bottle of liquid soap.  On the way to the bus stop this morning I was pleasantly surprised to see the pounding rain pound pretty soap bubbles off its surface, obviously a result of having a clean family who always wash their hands after a comfort break.  I was just admiring a huge one that sneaked under the brolly with me (bubble, not family; it’s only a small umbrella), when it popped, squirting soap shrapnel into my eye.  I was so startled (and in pain), I stepped back, slipped off the pavement, and into a large and dirty puddle.

How I wish I had a dirty family.  If no-one washed their hands after a comfort break, I would be eye-less-in-gauze, err, and not nursing foot rot.*

*I confess, none of that last line is true.  My real medical problem is hyperboleitis.**

**Defined in Tilly’s Dictionary of Made-Up Words as an inability to blog without exaggerating for comic effect. 

Can you forgive me?***

***You have to; I’m racked with guilt and heaving great wracking sobs as I type.****

****Okay, I’ve got a snotty nose from walking in the rain.*****

*****This could go on forever, you know.

%d bloggers like this: