The Weather Conversation Conspiracy
Or: How I Became That Person Who Photographs Clouds
I knew something had changed when I found myself in a deep conversation about clouds — with the postman. Neither of us had a meteorology degree. But there we were, earnestly dissecting the sky like it had just made a controversial political statement. That’s when I realised: I’ve been fully inducted into Britain’s unofficial national pastime — talking about the weather like it owes us rent.
Just last week, I caught myself saying — with actual emotion — “Shame about the grey rolling in after such a lovely morning.”I was talking to my husband, who looked up from stirring a pot of curry like I’d just delivered bad news from the bank. The skies had turned. And so, apparently, had I.