And So It Begins…

This is another moan from me about messing around with the time by putting the clocks back and forward.

This is 2022. Farmers have headlights on their vehicles, and computer-guided ploughing.

Kids in most areas get taken to school by car, or go on a school bus or coach. In cities where they still walk to school, there are street lights. In country districts where they still walk to school there are presumably parents to escort them, if they are young enough to be in any danger.

What is the point of this archaic practice? No doubt you will tell me, and no doubt I will disagree.

Last night in Beetley, it was pitch dark by 5:10 pm. That makes the night feel longer than it needs to be, and affects people (like me) with SAD.

My dog Ollie will take a while to adjust. He wanted to go out for his walk at 10:45 am, and nagged for his dinner before 1pm.

I felt as if I wanted to eat my own dinner before 6pm, and I was ready to go to bed just after 9:45 pm.

Stop it, you powers that be. Let’s get into the 21st century. We no longer live in the nineteenth.

We have electric lights, not candles.

Victoria is no longer the Queen. She has been dead since 1901.

Farmers are selling off land for house-building and solar panels. We import much of our food as a consequence.

Animals live in barns or sheds, in the main. They have lighting, warmth, and are fed and milked by machines.

Get a grip, and realise it is completely unnecessary.


Four Seasons In One day

No, not the Crowded House song. It’s about the weather and dog-walking again, I’m afraid.

We woke late today, courtesy of the archaic custom of putting the clocks forward one hour. This is supposed to mean one hour less in bed, but we slept through that sixty minutes, blissfully unaware.
We were greeted by a blustery day, grey skies and showers. A sort-of April day, albeit a little premature. It was spring-like after a fashion, as it didn’t feel too cold, and the showers came in swirls. During a late breakfast, autumn arrived, as the wind increased to an uncomfortable level, and began to blow things around outside, steadily increasing in strength.

By the time I was getting ready to take Ollie for his walk, winter had made an unwelcome reappearance. It was dark enough to put lights on in the house, and the rain had turned from showers to a driving downpour. I steeled myself for the afternoon excursion, and ventured out across to Beetley Meadows with Ollie. Within seconds, the wind had risen to near gale-force, and the black clouds seemed so low, you could almost throw a stone into them. The rain quickly turned to hail, driving in the wind with great strength, swirling around our unfortunate forms with incredible force, sounding like the beats of a fast snare-drum against my coat and hat.

Even Ollie, normally oblivious to weather conditions, sought refuge under the foliage of a large bush. I had been out for less than ten minutes, but already my cotton trousers were soaked through, and the water and hail sneaked under the collar of my waterproof coat, dampening the neck of my T-shirt. The supposedly waterproof expensive gloves were also sodden on my hands, and much of the ground had turned into a muddy stream. I plodded on for Ollie’s sake, turning my back to the wind to minimise the worst effects of the weather. I could hear thunder, but fortunately saw no lightning, as we were very exposed over there. Nobody else was around; they were sensibly still indoors, waiting for it all to go away.

I carried on over to Hoe Rough, preferring to keep moving rather that trying in vain to seek shelter under trees. Once we had made the short distance to the gate there, the rain stopped. It was abrupt, as if someone had just turned off a hose. Without the rain and hail, the wind was bearable, though I was conscious of many small branches being dislodged, and falling all around us. Even the largest trees were swaying alarmingly, seeming to move of their own accord. I trudged on, with Ollie happier now, and running ahead. We did a couple of circuits around the area, and after we had been out for about ninety minutes, the sun began to break through the clouds. As I headed back to the gate, the sun came out in earnest, blue skies appeared, and it was summer once again. I started to feel uncomfortably hot, wrapped up in waterproofs and a hat, and loosened my scarf too. The gloves came off, and I unzipped my coat.

By the time we got home, although Ollie was still wet, and my clothes were still soaked, I could have got away with shorts and flip-flops. Four seasons in a few short hours. Amazing.