I was supposed to be at Headingley cricket ground at this precise moment in time, rather than telling you (who probably aren't even in the least bit interested) that I'm not.
The reason for my trip was to watch Yorkshire take on the Durham Dynamos at Twenty20.
But, quite frankly, it's freezing, I don't own enough coats to keep me warm enough for three hours, I don't know where our flask is and it also looks like it might rain. Hard.
Hopefully I'll have better luck on Sunday afternoon when the White Rose are due to take on...some other team.
However, whilst the "climate" is clearly not one of Yorkshire's greatest assets, its humour - or, rather, the humour of its residents - towards the "changeable" weather is considerably more uplifting.
For example, last night I went to pick Jamie up from nursery and it was chucking it down in buckets (to use my most polite Ulster phraseology).
I was standing just inside the door trying to wrap him up as best I could against the elements when this, huge, tough-looking, bald, Yorkshire bloke took a peak over my shoulder to check the latest situation outside.
He then winked at me, looked at his little boy who he had come to collect, and uttered a line which I will long remember:
"Look son, it's persistingly it down."
I loved that.
No comments:
Post a Comment