Saved by the Hail

For once it would appear that the vagaries of British weather will save me tomorrow from the agony of physical exertion. It had been suggested by friends much fitter than I that tomorrow we would go cycling. For fit people this might consist of a jolly day freewheeling up hill and down dale, but for me it would tend to offer the prospect of hoisting myself in a rather ungainly manner into the saddle and puffing and panting up steep hills with every muscle in my body protesting at my lack of training. When I looked at the weather forecast in the middle of the week it showed glorious sunshine for Saturday, making my heart sink every so slightly and my muscles tremble in fearful anticipation. Everything however changed today. As so often happens, despite the fact that we are at present bathed in glorious sunshine, the forecast for tomorrow has changed from a sunshine symbol to one depicting a cloud and three drops of rain. There will of course be many more than three drops of rain but there is only so much space available on a weather symbol.

In the event of rain, Plan B will be put into operation. I have to admit that Plan B has not actually been planned but here’s hoping that it will involve as little physical activity as possible.

I will keep you posted.

Sunshine on Leith

As you may be aware, my usual attitude to the weather in this part of the world is one of healthy despair. However Saturday was somewhat of a revelation. The sun not only peeped through a chink in the clouds, it positively told the clouds to take a long walk over a short cliff, which, for once they did and a glorious sunny day was the result. And what a result. Sandals, t-shirts and shorts were fished from the bottom of drawers and faces metamorphosed from frozen wet misery into radiant sun-kissed happiness. Actually the sun-kissed may have been the result of a few too many tanning sessions, but we’ll let that lie.

Somewhat appropriately I went to see Sunshine on Leith in Glasgow. Taking previously written songs by The Proclaimers and moulding a musical around them might seem like a challenge, but themes of love, loss, separation and heartache run through musicals and popular music in such equal measure as to minimise that challenge considerably.

The storyline involves three couples who variously fall in and out of love, surrounded by a supporting cast who help them through the pain by singing an appropriate Proclaimers song to them, further enhanced by a quirky dance routine. Having watched a fair number of musicals, this form of “Musical/Dance Therapy” seems, by the time the curtain falls, to be an effective emotional problem solving strategy. I’m sure that Psychotherapists the world over are taking note.

I did take some issue with one central character being actively dissuaded from following her dreams of going to America, a move which by the final scene offered apologetic undertones which did not sit easily with me.

To add to this, my viewing experience was somewhat curtailed by a thicket of acutely angled hair sitting in front of me. Further interruptions ensued when, over the course of the evening, an inordinate amount of people felt the need to excuse themselves causing us to spend a good deal of the time bobbing up and down in our seats like demented penguins.

All in all however, because I don’t want to end on too negative a note, a good night out was had by all. Well, the weather was nice and we could all use a few Proclaimers songs to cheer us up.

* * *

This morning, on coming into work, I have just heard the worst possible news. Apparently the weather is to get progressively worse over the rest of the week, culminating in a disastrous 11 degrees and rain by Friday. I am quite distraught. What did I say about ending on a negative note?