Climate change or not?

 Climate change or not.

The voices have been loud and vociferous, the opinions as blunt and forthright in much the way they've always been. Yes, it's that famous old chestnut- the English weather. Throughout the decades and centuries the same subject has dominated the conversation over millions of breakfast tables. Now let's look out of the window today. Goodness me it's here again and there's a revelation. There is something for everybody on the horizon. It's the weather again doing what it always seems to do, shaping our moods and plans while always reminding us of its ubiquitous presence, here, there and everywhere.

 With bated breath we anticipate the certainties and uncertainties, the thick, dark clouds swelling up over the rooftops and the glorious sunshine ready for our inspection at the crack of dawn, heat, rain, cold, warmth and wind. You name it and there it is. We have here the changing moods, the fluctuations of the British climate, unpredictable by the day although incessant heatwaves are always welcome.

There are those who would insist that we get four seasons in one day here in Blighty. A year ago at this time, Britain and the United Kingdom was still baking and roasting in the most magnificent heatwave the country had ever seen. We knew it had been another exceptional one because we looked at our parks and gardens and it seemed fairly obvious that something was just perfect. In a sense we should have been celebrating from the highest steeple but then we started complaining because this is not supposed to happen and besides we weren't ready for this totally unexpected occurrence. So we closed our eyes, threw our heads back and revelled in idyllic tranquillity. Sun tan creams and sun factors were now essential.

This year things seemed to have turned out in the reverse order. June was rather like last July and never shall the twain meet. Britain is almost spoilt beyond belief since the months of the year tend to merge into each other and there has always been a sense of the inevitable in the order of the seasons. The winter months seemed to unravel like a grey cotton reel that eventually made way for a pleasant and moderately warm spring before a combination of breezy, sunny and then short, sharp torrents of rain encouraged the daffodils, daisies and tulips to come out of hibernation.

In recent weeks there has been an almost operatic intensity to the British climate. There have been the rich, whistling and blustery winds that sounded like the flute, oboe and clarinet you'd normally expect to hear in some elaborate orchestral arrangement or some novelty act at the Proms. And then the squally showers began to fall with some vigour and a good deal of seriousness. Now we must have felt that at some point our umbrellas would have to be folded away sooner rather than later but then the heavens opened and there was another bucket of rain, knocking us off our feet and drenching our socks and shoes.

Meanwhile in the far flung corners of the Mediterranean, tragedy has struck and summer in Spain, Greece and Italy is well and truly on fire. For the last week or so ferocious forest fires have been sweeping across the Med, destroying both fauna and flora, vast acres of bushes and trees while wiping out whole swathes of once lush vegetation and peaceful farmlands. Properties have been razed to the ground and families driven out of their severely damaged houses. It could hardly get any worse and yet it did quite horrifically.

So we look at now disfigured and burnt landscapes that a couple of months ago should have been revealing ripe plantations of fruit. Then there are the healthy looking crops and vegetables that bring so much, quite literally, to the table on our family plates of dinner, tea, breakfast and lunch. But now the Mediterranean has gone up in heart breaking flames and those lovely tourist hot spots for British holidaymakers are totally inaccessible, consumed by an almost unprecedented heatwave that has now soared into over 100 degrees of heat on a daily basis. 

The truth of course is that all of those knowledgeable climate scientists seemed to have got it right. Aren't they the clever clogs? Here we were denying all of the evidence to the contrary and pretending Britain would never be hit by such a meteorological calamity when, quite clearly, everything has been turned on its head. Now we are confronted with the most obvious extremes. While the Mediterranean basks in roasting heat reminiscent of the Sahara desert, here the United Kingdom finds itself with a traditional European summer full of dramatic flashes of lightning. This whole act is  followed by claps of thunder invariably concluded with yet more sporadic bursts of sunshine that then sheepishly hide behind more bubbles of heavy cloud cover. Don't you love the English weather?

We are now weeks away from the end of summer and before we know it, autumnal mists will gather on mountain ranges where the clouds resemble tasty looking marshmallows, hanging tenaciously onto the hills and valleys before melting into the distance. In some art galleries this scenario could remind you of a most attractive landscape painting by John Constable. But this is England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, all of England's most appealing towns and villages. And that's how it rolls.

For now sadly global weather patterns have become very much set in stone. Britain has now adopted a pleasing air of familiarity with everything going according to plan. We know what we're going to get whether it be sun and rain and we don't mind at all or do we? The fondly romantic would love those eternally warm and seductive summers that we used to experience during the 1950s and 1960s. But then our memories are short because we probably imagined them to be hot. As a child of the 1960s it is hard to form any definitive judgment on any semblance of climate change. But this summer seems to be delivering everything at roughly the same time with regional variations on a theme.

Still, here we are on the threshold of august August, never entirely sure what to expect in the ether because unpredictability is now the recurring theme. So pull on your mackintosh, wellies and one or two layers of woolly jumpers for an evening stroll along a Cotswolds pathway. Then when the sun comes flooding in through your blinds or curtains, dig out the Caribbean T-shirts, beach shorts with that distinctive look of cool about them, a floppy sun hat and then grab a deckchair for good measure. Here is where our hearts go out to our friends in Spain, Greece and Italy. Our thoughts are with you all.