Life As I left Manchester tonight I was filled with a unalloyed sense of well being. Joy. To paraphrase the Nat King Cole song, it was almost like being in love, which is odd because for once I'm not actually in love with anyone at the moment, even pure and chaste from afar. It's the weather I'm sure, the six month grey grump giving way to the sun. The air seems fresher too, even in the city. Living between two places I have to make certain ... considerations and unbelievably the main one is the weather. I've always been notoriously bad at predicting if it will rain or shine and will inevitably end up wearing a big, thick coat on a really hot day. With two cites, the effect is magnified because whatever it looks like out of my window will be totally different to whatever someone is seeing out of the university library door.
To combat this I've been taking the scientific approach and checking this amazing page at BBC Weather that lets me know at seven in the morning when I wake up what the temperature and chance of rain will be in Manchester that afternoon. If you take a look it actually breaks the day up into degrees and I've actually worked out an informal set of rules as to how many clothes I'll wear. So anything under 10 degrees and it's coat weather. 10-14 its the thick jumper. 15 and it's the tracksuit top. Anything over that and we're in the hallowed ground of t-shirt weather and a happy day. I'm looking at the gauge now and it's displaying 23 degrees at midday tomorrow which I've never seen before. That either means I'm going to have to change the scale to include thinner t-shirt or go naked.