I don’t know about where you live, but people in Northern Ireland love to talk about the weather. Or rather, complain about the weather. Whenever there is a lull in the conversation, you always have the failsafe option of looking out the window and commenting on the prevailing conditions. There’s also so much to discuss as two days are rarely the same. Or one day for that matter.
Northern Ireland is a country where you can experience all four seasons in one day. If you wake up to blue skies and sunshine, you can guarantee there will be driving sleet and howling gales by mid-morning. Consequently, confusion reigns as to what to wear. There’s no such thing as a winter or summer wardrobe. Yesterday I was in a t-shirt but today it’s a hooded top. With the hood up.
This leads to some interesting sights. Belfast city centre sets the standard. The first glimpse of the big yellow ball in the sky and pasty skinned youths insist on parading topless around the town, usually accompanied by a two litre bottle of cheap cider. Their lady friends also throw caution to the wind, topping up their false tans in outfits that leave little to the imagination. Put it away, dear, nobody wants to see that.
I’ll stick to my hooded tops. I’m a man of a certain vintage and nobody wants to see my bare flesh. I’ll avoid the sun-worshiping hordes and stick to the shadows. For we all know, the hailstones will be bouncing off the pavement before too long as random pedestrians are picked up Mary Poppins style and whisked off across the city skyline by an unforgiving squall. Hoping the weather is a little less temperamental where you are today.