Today is St. Swithin's day and any rain today is thus believed to herald forty days of more rain. From a scientific standpoint, this is stark nonsense but from a perspective of great British eccentricity it is irresistable. So far, this summer has certainly been one of the best which I can remember. As I approach my 42nd birthday in November, I and my fellow quatrogenerians remember the endless sultry days of the summer of 1976. That summer, I can not honestly recall seeing any rain albeit I was but a young lad of seven. 1984 was a good follow up with no shortage of heat or sunshine. By coincidence, both of these summers saw the West Indians touring Englnad and the ensuing cricket was as one-sided as I have ever witnessed. England barely even made up the numbers in the face of some of the finest fast bowling I have ever seen. The sight of Michael Holding gliding towards the wicket will stay with me as one of the most aesthetically beautiful visions in the history of sport - I am only glad I was not the poor batsman on the receiving end.
As a nation, we are famously obsessed by the weather and this has much to do with the subtle regional variations which we boast. The lake district will always have its fair share of rain and the East coast counties such as Norfolk will always have less. Ours is a country where travelling small distances can yield large temperature and weather differences. In addition the recent temperatures of 32 degrees in parts of Kent contrast starkly with the recent January lows of minus 15 degrees. Its a wonder we grow any fruit with such massive seasonal swings. Anyway, whether or nor the curse of St. Swithin strikes again, I intend to enjoy the rest of the summer come rain or shine!
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