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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