


Nice here, isn't it?
No sooner had I arrived last winter than I was regaled with tales of how much rain there had been the previous winter. They said it started on the 17th December, and didn’t stop for weeks.
So when I got thoroughly soaked moving on
the 18th, I raised an eyebrow.
After a couple of days I got
seriously worried when it still hadn’t stopped. The swimming pool overflowed. The
water was level right across the courtyard AND the pool. The streets turned
into shallow rivers. I really wished I’d brought my wellies.
Too
wet.
Then,
it stopped. Meanwhile the temperature had gone between really hot and sunny to
rather chilly and light-the-fire nights.
Too
cold.
Meanwhile, I watched reports of deep snow back home and minus goodness knows what temperatures for weeks and thought, all things considered, it was pretty ok here……
When
summer came, I discovered an obsession with the temperature rising along with
levels of listlessness, hanging stickily around all day waiting for the slightest
alleviation of discomfort in the evenings.
Too
hot.
So
I went back for some English summer. When I returned, it was comfortable.
Then,
almost overnight, it turned into winter again and we recommenced complaining
how cold it was. Just lately it’s been noticeably very chilly, and extremely windy,
so we’ve had something else to grumble about, like garden furniture being blown
around the roof terrace at night, and half the leaves from next door’s tree in
my courtyard every morning. Careless pegging out of washing could mean fetching
it back from the next town or worse, while the motorway warned of crosswinds and
markets were abandoned.
Too windy.
Snow levels on the mountains were calculated daily and compared to last year.
Two days of higher temperatures were greeted as welcome (but temporary) relief. A rainy day can cause “cabin fever”, however infrequent. And we really do congratulate ourselves on how much worse it is everywhere else……So,
you can spot the tourists, they’re the ones in shorts and t-shirts while the
rest of us are wearing coats and scarves and grumbling.
I know people who have
wished for bad weather and flights cancelled so they can stay here, whilst
those waiting to return prayed for the opposite.
The
Spanish build their houses in denial that they have a winter, I heard it said.
There’s a plethora of heaters in the shops and in demand.
Me?
I’m huddled over my gas heater typing with my gloves on.
My temperature comfort
zone is about 2 degrees wide – below, I’m too cold, above - I’m too hot.
But hey, I’m moving to a house with a real stove, and if I run out of wood I can always burn the books.
Until the summer.
Nice here, isn't it?