This isn’t’ me searching for some kind of awkward-silence-breaker-conversation-topic. Like a, “So how ‘bout those Mariners?” sort of thing. I haven’t run out of things to say, rather, I genuinely feel the need to talk about the weather.

This is for a few reasons. One, because it has been snowing off and on for the past few weeks. I’ve been wanting it to snow all year long and now that it is supposedly spring it snows! On one hand it’s exciting, on the other it’s like: “It’s April, why in Hades is this stuff falling from heaven?” I think it is possibly made worse by the fact that I am now Penny-less and have to walk everywhere.

Even worse though is the rain. It’s freezing cold outside and then Mother Nature, just to spite you a bit more, will soak you with rain. Honestly I can’t tell you how many times I’ve left the house with out my brolly (because it’s sunny) only to walk home a few hours later in the pouring rain. And when I do remember my brolly it often times has no effect in keeping me dry because the wind will either break it (so far I’ve gone through 4) or just blow the rain in your face. Not to mention the amount of brollys that you lose. I truly believe that they are not actual property but a baton that is passed around from one person to the next. You never ACTYUALLY own one, you just have possession of it for a giving amount of time…

It’s weather like this that makes you just want to hide under the covers, not bearing to face another day. Which is one of the reasons why I personally think England developed such a drinking culture. Also I think that it effected the decision for the drinking age to be much younger than in the states. Were the drinking age 21 here I think at the suicide or at lest depression rate would increases exponentially.

It’s funny though too to see the reaction of uncommon events. England is used to rain and rubbish weather, but earthquakes? I think not. We had an earthquake some time ago. However I use the term earthquake loosely. It was more of a tremor. It happened in the wee hours of the morning. I was at work and didn’t feel it, but observed the bottles on the bar shaking more than usual. I assumed it was the bass from the music. Turns out it was a mild earthquake. But to hear an English person tell it is completely different. What I would describe as a slight rattle they describe as this severe shaking that woke them up, scaring the (take your pick of expletive or euphemism) out of them. To this day they go on about it, how scary it was. Honestly, it was like someone’s bass amp was turned up too loud. If in bed it would have felt like one of those 25-cent massaging bed things in cheap motels, nothing to get your knickers up in a bunch over.

It is fun to wind them up about it though. I tell them stories about living through a proper earthquake back in 2001 and how the cement floor of my classroom looked like waves. Or about how I was in an earthquake that ACTUALLY did property damage, not some jello-giggle excuse of one. Typically these stories are met with the “everything is bigger and better in America” sarcasm that permeates the counterargument’s defense whenever I make a comment.

I just hope I’m not jinxing myself and we’ll have another one, but this time a great big one that crushes me under a brick chimney or something. Knock on wood….