Not the nicest piece of information to hear at 30,000 feet.
Big weather affects us on all fronts.
If I penned a weather diary for the past 48 hours it'd include the sleepless nights courtesy of high gales buffeting the whare, cleaning up after the overflowing gutters cascading on to the deck, changing the kids' pick-up and drop-off times at school, sport cancellations, opting for the more expensive and time-consuming cooked breakfasts, deciding not to go the gym, chewing through twice the firewood, wearing the same workshirt more than once without washing it (no dryer at our place), woken early by a wet cat wanting in, etc, etc.
So while many of us have moved away from our agrarian existences and now work indoors, weather still wreaks havoc on us otherwise sedentary folk.
Maybe that's why newsrooms love the weather - if it affects our daily lives, it sells.
Maybe that's also why our weather forecasters seem much more in control of their craft these days.
Decades ago I remember giving forecasters a regular ribbing as to how inaccurate their predictions were.
These days there seems to be less guesswork - more science than art.
A point in case was Monday night, where the big rain was expected to hit at 8pm. Like clockwork, our tin roof let us know at 8.10pm that the forecast showers were here.
It's impressive.
Still, they can't win, because I'd rather they were wrong and that instead of tomorrow's predicted wet stuff, we get a nice slice of blue sky.
