The Time Between Weekends and Sunshine
11:42 pm
The weekend
and the weather are the two most favored topics of conversation in Britain. In
all my three and a half years here, I don’t think I have had a single
interaction, however intimate the nature of that interaction might have been, where
there hasn't been some mention of either or both of these two things.
At
work, the two ‘W’s contribute to so much conversation, that sometimes, I wonder
if any life exists in between these crests and troughs of Saturday nights, Sunday
brunches and the innumerable types of rain - slanting, straight, slow, fast, heavy,
drizzle, pissing-it-down, hail-stone-y, sleet-y, spit-like, misty, hanging-in-the-air…ad
infinitum.
Perhaps
the BBC should consider adding these descriptions to their daily weather
forecast, because of course, we all check the forecast religiously, every morning.
There is no other explanation for that
fantastic-fashion-phenomenon when the temperature, after being consistent at
around 4 degrees Celsius for ten days, suddenly spikes to around 12 degrees on
the eleventh day, and everyone, after all those days of winter coats, woolen hats,
thick gloves, is now in their spring gear; light jackets, sandals and all. It is no surprise then that the whole nation seems
to improve its mood collectively on the two days of sunshine that we have in a
year.
I
love OD-ing on some Vitamin D and having time off work just like everyone else,
but at times I wonder if life might be a bit more pleasant, at times, even more bearable, without all this classification.
One
of my favorite activities of the day, whatever day it is, is to go for a wander
without any real purpose. When I’m at work, I love to go out for a small
stroll. It doesn't matter that it might be just for twenty minutes. It doesn't matter that the temperature might be in negatives, a trait I picked from some
hikers I once met who went on long distance walks every Sunday whatever the
weather might be.
To me, my daily stroll is an adventure, or has the potential of
one; an adventure of the smallest and perhaps the most trivial kind, but an adventure
nevertheless.
Today,
it was raining continuously the whole day. I’m not sure what sort of rain it
was; maybe a concoction of misty, drizzle, and heavy. By lunchtime, as the conversations about plans
for the coming weekend were being initiated, and the rain got heavier, I took my
umbrella and went for a walk in a small park close to the office.
On a
sunny day or even a cloudy/drizzle day, the children’s play area in the park probably has
the power to cut through the stoniest of hearts – mothers pushing babies in
body suits on the baby-swing, small children in bright clothes playing on the
see-saw, some curly haired child asking her nanny about why the pigeon was so
fat. The rest of the park would be full of people having their lunch on benches
under towering oak trees. If it was an exceptionally sunny day, there would be
people lying on the grass, reading a book, couples walking around holding hands,
students sitting in a circle listening to music...
But
today it was raining misty-drizzle-heavy and the park was deserted. I was the
only one there and boy was it magnificent.
I walked
around the park thrice; thinking about nothing in particular. For twenty
minutes, the rain on my umbrella, the smell of blooming roses, the sight of
daffodils sprouting from the ground, the sound of a robin singing without a
pause, the feel of spring around me, were all mine. In that time, and even
after that time had passed, it was impossible to think about what day tomorrow was and
what I would be doing if there was a chance of rain and a wind speed of 8 mph.
Perhaps then, although it is easier in theory than in practice, it is not that difficult after all, to have a pleasant moment, in that time between weekends and sunshine.
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