Apparently, there is a clear definition of what constitutes actual rain, drizzle and showers but it seems to be of little assistance when you are standing in it — you get wet anyway.
Weather forecasters always seem to be glass half full of rainwater people, rather than one that is half empty. Are forecasters natural pessimists and do they require optimistic workshops to shift their bias towards better forecasts?
Example: Why say occasional showers when they could say occasional sunshine – at least that would put a positive spin on what may be a gloomy outlook (mind you, a tornado is the kind of spin we could do without).
Partly cloudy ... what is that? Gaps in sunshine is what that is, so why not use this more accurate description? Overcast is another of those words that mean the sun is on strike for better conditions requiring more blue sky thinking.
At one stage I was the designated blue-sky captain in our household and my duty was to arrange the weather.
This was a different task than the "blue sky thinking" that was, for a time, the buzz phrase in corporate business speak.
That kind of "blue sky thinking" was supposed to be about opening ideas across a broad horizon without critique whereas, in my case, if it rained, I got blamed.
At one stage in this short-lived career as weather pilot, I got a selection of colour charts from the local paint shop with a range of blues to see what might match the kind of sky I was supposed to be organising.
I was often wrong in my scheduling of sunshine and would protest that this was not my fault. A good blue sky captain takes days off to rest from the strenuous task and delegates to their children.
A sudden influx of thunder clouds sent this way to avoid landing in Palmerston North (it is already gloomy enough over there without more rain) may not have been what I ordered but the sky delivers them nonetheless.
The bit I enjoy the most in the weather forecast is the temperature indications headed "feels like".
These conjure up the picture of meteorologists sitting round inside their air-conditioned office in their summer clothes saying to one of the lowly staff members: " Go outside and see what the temperature feels like and how many layers of clothing you need to put on."
The minion heads downstairs and out the backdoor with an armful of coats and jerseys to test the air. They return wearing everything, including a woolly hat, declaring it to be bloody freezing and it is someone else's turn tomorrow.
This is then dutifully noted in the weather report as the "feels like", in contrast to the actual instrument temperature. This is very helpful ... knowing somebody has already been outside to check how cold it really is, provides an immeasurable service to those of us still lying in our warm beds on a chilly autumn morning.
To those brave "feels like" weather testers, we salute you and feel like a knighthood would be appropriate, especially when too many of these honours are being dished out for simply making lots of money or being an MP for a really long time.
*Terry Sarten (aka Tel) is a writer, musician, satirista and social worker — feedback: tgs@inspire.net.nz
