Weather

In defiance of Thimbleanna, who says “And when you start talking about the weather, you’ve run out of things to say and it’s time to sign off”, I’m going to write about… the weather. In case you’ve never been to Scotland and are planning to make a summer trip, you might like to know what sort of clothes to pack. So for example…

Last week I was passing the Botanic Gardens, one of my favourite places in the world, and decided to pop in for a walk. It was starting to rain a bit – just a smirr in the wind - but a little rain doesn’t bother me and anyway I had an umbrella in my handbag. So off I set. The nice thing about the Botanics in the wet is that you usually get it to yourself and can fantasise that you’re a Very Rich Person and that this is your domain.

On this occasion, however, a tour bus had disgorged some Japanese tourists and they were going round grimly, trying to enjoy themselves. With some difficulty, because it began to absolutely POUR. It was STOTTING off the ground, and if you don’t know what that means, click on the picture below and you’ll see.

My little umbrella did keep my head dry. And my shoulders. But from the elbows down, I was drookit – drenched. I sploshed cheerfully around, enjoying the empty paths and the deserted benches and lawns and discovering that my “showerproof” jacket was nothing of the sort. Soon the paths became raging torrents through which I had to wade. As I’ve discovered before, there comes a point in wetness when saturation point is reached and you might as well enjoy sloshing and squelching and splashing because you’re going to slosh and squelch and splash whether you like it or not.

You can easily see why Scotland is so green. Here's the rockery.

Standing on a rockery path, I looked over the city to our lovely hill, Arthur Seat, which was enveloped in an atmospheric - but I should imagine somewhat damp - cloud. It seemed to be coming our way. I retreated.

Of course I was going home to put on dry clothes, not like the unfortunate tourists who were getting back on a bus and proceeding to another sodden part of Scotland. Ah, the joys of travel.

Today, by contrast, it’s warm and sunny. The temperature is around 73 Fahrenheit / 23 Celsius, which is just perfect for sitting in the shade. It’s not so good for cutting the lawn, although I’ve just done this because I am a Good Person. But as for the weeding that I had planned to do – too hot. My goodness has its limits. This is what the garden looks like today. I don’t want to leave it and go back to work in eleven days.

The other reason I can’t weed the back garden is that I need to be able to hear the doorbell because I’m waiting in for a chap to come and tell us that our dishwasher, whose catch has broken so that it won’t stay shut, is now discontinued and he can’t get us a new catch so that we have to buy a new dishwasher. He hasn’t said this yet because he hasn’t arrived – he’s now 15 minutes late. I could of course weed the front garden because I would see him coming. But it’s too hot. Even the cats seek out the shade in the sitooterie.

Ah, he’s just phoned. “What day was I supposed to come and see you?” That inspires confidence, doesn't it? “And where exactly do you live?”

Time for a cup of tea, I think.

And now you know what clothes to pack for a holiday in Scotland. Don't you? Ok Anna, I'll sign off now.

(PS. He came! He mended! O me of little faith!)