On my drive to work this morning (hadn’t planned to cycle, I was out for a mountainbike ride with Steve. Don’t think I ‘ll get away with claiming Juneathon miles with the bike in pieces in the back of the car), the local doomsayers (BBC Radio Kent. The most depressive pair of idiots ever to present a morning show. I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. But I fancied hearing the traffic at 6.45, so had it on for a few seconds) did a quick weather statement indicating that it was forecast to get up to 25 degrees celcius and be fine today. I laughed, called them cunts and turned over to BBC Radio 4.
Around the turn of the hour, Tomasz Schafernaker (best name ever? Yep, probably. Well, after Mike Hunt, the RovaKabin rep, of course. I’ve still got his business card.) was introduced and he again iterated that we were due (in the South East, at least. Kent is the South East still, isn’t it?) 25 degrees. This was as the car was buffeted sideways and the wipers were on full through the rain that was pelting down. I checked the car thermometer. A rosy 11 degrees. Nearly halfway to target, then.
On arrival at work I checked the BBC weather site and it showed, for anywhere I looked, a maximum of 18 degrees forecast. With an average 18mph wind from the North East. Which was about what happened. XC Weather indicated similar. Metcheck the same.
So why were the presenters lying? Because something is so corrupt at the BBC that they are compelled to do so, I guess. Tomasz especially – he wouldn’t want to be sacked twice, after all. None of us like that.
Any Questions on Radio 4 this evening must have hurt them so much. Policy is, I’ve read, to encourage debate with a swing towards support, on climate change. The audience didn’t like it and neither did the presenter when a scientist stated the fact that global temperature hasn’t risen for 17 years. Despite his balanced judgement that yes, human influence is altering the planet, that yes we are experiencing alterations in weather, that things are changing but global warming isn’t occurring in a measured way, the audience (and presenter in failing to control them) wouldn’t have it at all.
I need a change of life. This one is frustrating me. I’ve even deleted FaceBook, such is my growing anger at idiots commenting on things they clearly feel they should when in fact they should simply be executed. And no, I can’t not look – my “I’m going to upset myself by looking at the stupid people” gene is too weak.
So Today’s Juneathon was a relief from the frustrations of my existence. I hated the wind. I especially hated my decision to ride from work to meet the boys because it made an extra 3 miles at the end of a 15 mile loop uphill and into wind. Proper uphill and wind, too, even at 8 o’clock. Yep, hills get no flatter in the evening. Steve was looking forward to my rant about how shite the trip was. I haven’t the energy. The BBC have outdone even the wind. But I was sweating by the time I’d got to the car. Sweating with cold hands. A hot core and cold extremities. That’ll be the effect of 25 degrees on the soul. Or the 11 my car thermometer showed, anyway.
My jog was courtesy of Steve, too. He got a puncture on the flat, road bit in Hythe. I proposed I’d run my mile while he repaired it. So in flat-soled skate trainers and cycling shorts (long ones, not lycra padded things. I’m not that much of a pervert.), I set off and returned in time to help him pump it up. Cool, windy but flatter than a pan-type cake (the run. Not Steve. Or Shaun, come to that), so easy despite the footwear.
Juneathon? It’s going ok.
Despite the bastard weather that’s worse than the first week of Janathon was.
Ah, the weekend. I can almost smell it.