Weather statistics

At last the longer hours of daylight are beginning to appear, despite the sometimes grey wet days. At the village pub yesterday, a friend who cycles to work every day, commented on how much lighter it was cycling to & form work now. We hadn’t particularly noticed it. However, when we left, we couldn’t help but noticed it was getting dark rather than actually being dark, when we left & yet we left at around our usual time.

This week’s local paper was full of the statistics for the weather in November & December 2015. We were not entirely surprised by some of the figures. I know I’ve been moaning on about the greyness & the wetness, so I thought you might like to see the reality, & not just my subjective feel.

November was the wettest month on record. So was December, which worked out 2.7 times the average for the month. December worked out as 306.44mm (12.06 inches). For the combined months it worked out as 556.2mm (22.3 inches). During the 24 hours from 9am on December 5, the day Storm Desmond hit, 59.77mm of rain fell, hence the River Lune flooding. There was only one day in November without any rain.

As for the sunshine totals they were half the average, with 28 hours in November, 23 hours in December. For two ten day periods there was no sunshine at all. There was only 6 hours in the period December 1-20.

It is also commented that it has been very mild. Our cyclist friend had commented that for the first time this winter he had had to put on an extra layer for his pre-dawn cycle to work. It certainly seems to be colder, if brighter, than we had before Christmas. But that’s what I expect for winter – an icy blast, with hopefully a few crystal bright frosty days – not all this drab grey wetness. Hopefully the weather is turning more normal now.

Abstract painting

Yesterday was a strange day. The sun shone brightly. The mists swirled around, constantly changing. One minute all looked bright, skies blue, the next minute the garden had disappeared into the white of the mist.

In the afternoon we ventured out. First we set off to the doctor's (to collect a prescription). As we drove along the road, I was commenting on the weather. The Fox hadn't noticed how odd it was. Then we turned a corner & suddenly the distance turned white. 

After the surgery we went on to Morrisons, observing the ever changing scene. Fortunately the mists never closed in too close to make driving a problem. After that we went on to the Pub. As went along the prom, north past the golf course, we were surprised by the sight of Hest Bank. This village is on a hill. At first all you could see was brilliant white vertical rectangles floating in the air, dislocated from the ground. It looked like some sort of abstract paining. It was only as you came closer that you realised that the white vertical blocks were in fact the chimneys on the houses.

By the time we came home an hour or so later, the mists had cleared. Instead we had a brilliant sunset had appeared, all reds & oranges. Breathtaking.

More cold

I thought I would be going to church today now the snow had gone, but I didn't get there. I was late up for a start - the first decent night's sleep for weeks, not to be missed - so it would have been a rush. When I looked out of the kitchen window I remained hopeful. Then I ventured into the lounge & looked along the street. All was white - a really heavy frost & once more very slippy. I concluded I would be wiser to stay at home in the warmth.


So now, late morning, I decided to venture out in the back garden to feed the birds with the left over scraps of pork fat (see the Fox's blog), get some wine to chill for this evening & locate some cheese for afters. It was like walking over a carpet of crystal. The bright sunshine glistened on the frost. A kaleidoscope of brilliant colours flashed back. I had a quick look at the thermometer, -7C. Definitely cold. 

The road, shaded by the houses along it, remains white. The only dark patches being where parked cars have moved off. We're certainly having a cold winter this year. Brr...

Muffled

It's amazingly quiet this morning. All sound is muffled. It began snowing a few hours ago & is still falling. It's not very deep so far but nonetheless the deepest we've had it so far this winter. For the first time the taxi doesn't seem to have arrived to take a child who lives next door to school. At least there are no tracks in the snow to indicate it's been. I suspect that finally children in the area are being allowed their first day off - a chance to play in the snow.

My first task of the day was to get to the laundry room while I still could. I got out some prawns & cheese for dinner. I then popped to the garage for a bottle of riesling to wash it down with. At the rate the snow is falling I can't imagine wanting to venture out, let alone being able to, much later on today. I also hastily put out some bacon rinds for the birds. I suspect they're having a hard time of it at the moment.

I'm really looking forward to the spicy stir fry the Fox is making this evening. I suspect I will be ready for something with plenty of chilli in it to warm me up by then.

We did venture to the village pub yesterday. I couldn't help feeling sorry for the likes of Howard, a regular, who had to vanish outside in the sub-zero temperature to have his cigarette. He recently found a pub which had a separate shelter, with heating, tables & chairs, & TV, for smokers. He was envious of locals there. Neither of the pubs we usually go to have such facilities. Instead people wrap up well, hover outside the door & dive back in as quick as possible. I feel sorry for older people, pensioners like Little B, who are not about to change their ways & yet have difficulty coping with the cold, wet &, at the moment, ice.

Change of plans?

It almost comes as a shock to discover this morning a blue sky, no wind or rain. Al, our gardener, came round yesterday. As he arrived, the skies opened once more. The rained poured down. Needless to say he didn't stop, didn't so much as get out of his vehicle. We only knew he had been when he told us at the Pub later in the afternoon.

We ourselves had a quick pop to Morrisons before going to the Pub, to find the gale blowing with full force in the car park. The car door was almost whipped out of my hand. It was quite an achievement to get out of the car into my wheelchair with my Blue Badge parking card still visible on the dashboard.

I see one of our neighbours seems to have broken his leg. He's going around on crutches with a pot on his leg. I find myself wondering if his Norton motor bike has finally won. He's only a very slight man. His bike is so big & heavy. When he wheels it out into the road, it almost pulls him over. If it does get blown over, he's hard push to lift it up again without assistance. He's still got his L plates on, but, oh dear, I think the bike's mastering him rather than the other way around.

As for us, life is going quietly by. I was surprised yesterday. Yet another holiday brochure came through the post. The Fox idly flicked through it. Suddenly he says "That's looks nice". He doesn't usually so much as flick through the brochures unless he's positively feeling the itch to get away. And where was this? Kerala, India.

Much as we had decided not to book anything more this year, the grey, damp & increasing chill is making us begin to wonder if there isn't going to be a change of plan. The one thing we still remain resolved on is that, once this carers' course is finished, we're hoping to get away to see our friends in Harrogate for a couple of days. That is assuming they still fancy seeing us.

A wild day

I was listening to the radio early this morning. They were talking about St Kilda. At one point they commented that the weird sound you could hear was the wind blowing. What weird sound, I thought. I couldn't hear anything for the howls & screeches from the wind outside the window, occasionally interrupted by the the slashing of the rain on the glass.

It's a wild day. It struck me the moment I saw the trees dancing in all directions. Most of the time I'm not aware that many of the trees in the back garden have a silvery underside. Today there's no denying it. Needless to say I've not ventured out to church in this mayhem.

Changes

I've decided on a simple omelette for dinner today. Well, maybe not so simple as I'm intending to add some cooked gammon & rice to it.

I thought I'd start by unearthing some of the Fox's wonderful home grown potatoes. I'd just located a couple of small ones & one big one when the skies began to open. I hastily put the potatoes back in the soil & covered them over. I wasn't about to get soaked unnecessarily. I could always peel our last remaining shop-bought old potatoes for chips.

Just as well I did. Since then it's poured down. The room became so dark I was tempted to put the lights on. A roll of thunder could be heard from the heavens.

It all seems so different from Sunday, when we were able to sit out in the garden to eat our dinner, enjoying the sun & warmth. Still that's England for you - rarely two days the same.

All arranged

The thing about having a bright & sunny day at this time of year is that it tends to be followed by an absolutely freezing night. Last night was no exception. Once more I got up to a frosty white morning. I had a look at the thermometer outside. Again it read -11C. Brr... But the morning is staying bright which is some compensation.

As the Fox's readers will know, we've finally got our train tickets sorted. Now I just have to let Virgin Trains know I will need assistance at the stations. I just hope the journey goes as well as everyone tells us. The pessimistic part of me suspects the worst, but there's no harm in hoping. We've done as much as we can to make it easy.

I have to confess it still amazes me that it's taken nearly a month to organise a weekend away. I just hope it will be worth it. The hotel sounds as though it should be a bit of luxury, unlike the noisy place we stayed at in Liverpool. The show should be inspiring. And London will still be an exciting city to visit.

I'm telling myself if it is a success, & we fancy going again some time, it should be easier. Now I have my railcard. We've located helpful websites. We know where to find the info we need.

But oh, the simplicity of my last trip to London. Turn up at the station, buy a return ticket, straight down to London, fabulous day out (job interview, Monet's "Water Lily Pond", Westminster Abbey) then back on an early evening train. All I needed before I set out was the train time. Easy. And I never realised just how easy at the time!