Archive for grey skies

Bathrobe Weather

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on October 1, 2013 by davegerry
Wake me when it's over

Wake me when it’s over

We are currently experiencing the kind of weather that makes one never want to get out of bed. This has been going on for about a week. You retire for the night to the sound of pounding rain on the roof..and the same relentless drumming is still there in the morning.

Should you feel compelled to crawl out of bed, but be blessed with nothing better to do, I would suggest remaining in your bathrobe. It’s bathrobe weather, basically.

Bathrobe weather means it is your sworn duty to remain cosy. Cosy is key. You look outside and it’s as dark at 10am as it will be at 6pm. There is so much rain coming down that your eaves-troughs cannot handle the flow. Every petal from every summer flower has now been beaten soundly to the ground. Pelicans could high-dive in your birdbath. It is the kind of weather that makes you want to shave your head because there is no way to maintain any manner of presentable coif.

The problem with staying in a bathrobe from sunup to sundown is that you may associate this outfit with being ill. Some people need to feel the presence of buttons to achieve a state of wellness. So have some soup. Soup and slippers and a bathrobe are the keys to surviving these god-awful Pacific winters. (Don’t think too much about the fact that everyone in hospital has got the soup and slippers and bathrobe combo going too.)

Workplaces often have ‘casual Friday’s’….so why not a ‘bathrobe Tuesday’? It would be something to get on a bus full of people in bathrobes. It’s been my experience that half of them haven’t shaved anyway.

I would write more but bathrobe weather has drained every last vestige of motivation from my being.

Plus, the soup is ready. We’ll talk later.

The Big Wet One

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on November 8, 2009 by davegerry

The Big Wet One

It seems we have officially entered the Eternal Tunnel of Dreck here in British Columbia. It’s been raining for about four days. I lose count after three. It’s big rain too, the kind that overflows the bird bath, knocks the remaining golden leaves from the trees and thunders on the skylights so loudly that only Mary Hart’s insouciant babble on the tv cuts through the din. With a nod to Steve Martin’s movie Bowfinger, I’d pretty much classify this as  ‘chubby rain’.

I hate it. This is the weather that hands out bacon to the black dogs of depression. If you buy into the theory of Seasonal Affective Disorder you are already scrambling for your special lamp. The travel section of the local newspaper, with its images of long-lost hedonism in the heat, has never been more of a must read.

There are people who love the rain. Their favorite films are Singing in the Rain, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and, probably, Schindler’s List. They dig the grey. They have the capacity to soldier on, to look for the silver lining, to wait for the inevitable, glorious rainbow. Frankly, they are a big pain in the ass!

Moisture lovers are always quick with the cold-weather, dampened quip. You’ll catch them saying things like, ‘ It’s the rain that makes everything green’, and, ‘At least you don’t have to shovel it! ‘. Nothing personal, but I’d like to take their umbrella and snap it open where the sun don’t shine.

Seventy two hours of solid rain is all it takes for me to forget about those glorious days of the summer past. Three days washes two months away just like that.

I have to put my scenic vacation photos on the computer as my desktop background. I have to…I won’t survive otherwise. This is my current selection.

Bermuda April 17-26,2007 031

Transport me now

This is Flatts Inlet in Bermuda. I sit and stare deeply at it on the screen and try to will myself into the cockpit of that sailboat.

If I fixate long enough I can almost hear the rhythmic lapping of the water on the hull, smell the jasmine in the air and feel the beckoning warmth of the Bermudian sun on my face. We all have our kindred corners of creation and this is one of mine. Take my ashes here when I’m all done, when I’ve managed to endure my last dismal winter of discontent. Wait for a beautiful sunny day like this and let my grumpy soot waft away on the breeze…with nary a single raindrop to bring me down.