Storm Ciara: 6 emotional stages of getting caught in bad weather
Feb. 05, 2020
It’s happened to the best of us. Either by luck or lack of judgement, we’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and mother nature has punished us with rain, wind and hail.
There’s a few feelings we all experience when the clouds decide to open. As Storm Ciara gathers momentum, bringing strong winds to the UK and Ireland this weekend, these are the emotional stages of weathering bad weather…
Bad weather doesn’t happen in a vacuum, and storm clouds like to torment with a bit of will-they-won’t-they. Darkening skies and sporadic drops can easily pass without incident, and it’s only when you’re being deluged by nature’s answer to a power shower that you know the game is up.
“You’re sure it wasn’t supposed to rain today. “OK, but no one minds a touch a drizzle. “A passing shower, perhaps? “Damn.”
Ah, the infuriating powers of hindsight. You could have remembered your raincoat. You could have listened when a friend recommended that unfashionable bag cover. You could have heeded the dire forecast, and stayed inside.
You did none of these things. You made your bed – now get wet in it.
Curse all those smug people sitting at home by the fire, curse the weather forecast that got it just a teeny tiny bit wrong, and curse whoever came up with the stupid idea of going outdoors.
With anger comes desperation: the frantic dashing between doorways, the under-the-coat cradling of prised possessions, the attempt to quietly coattail beneath a passing umbrella.
You fought bravely, but your socks are sodden, your bag waterlogged, and your day irreparably ruined. Welcome to fully-fledged movie misery, where the world is symbolically dumping unhappiness on your shoulders, and all you can do is shuffle along uncomfortably, a meaningless cog in a merciless machine.
Don’t fight it. Wallow in the catharsis. We recommend Adele songs and a thousand yard stare.
You’re already swimming more than walking, so adding more rain is almost literally water off a duck’s back. Like Gene Kelly swinging round a lamppost you’ve borne the brunt of nature’s wrath, and now you laugh in its face. You’re humanity’s champion against the elements, bloodied but unbowed.
You’ve made it, and, drowned rat though you may be, your adventure has left you feeling strangely invigorated.
Clothes changed, kettle on. Bliss.
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