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I was warned to never discuss religion, sex, politics, or money once I was living in Britain. It might have been true at one time and maybe it is true in England, but not here in Wales. (I am still too shy to discuss sex.) But the weather remains a safe topic and the erratic weather we experience is constantly giving us something to talk about when we’re not complaining about the buses.
The Battle of Britain continues in the air above the United Kingdom. There is the Tropical Continental air mass that originates in North Africa and the Sahara, warm and dry, attacking Britain from France. It meets with the Tropical Maritime air mass, wet and warmed by the wide Atlantic Ocean, blowing out of the southwest and sometimes reaching Cardiff along the unobstructed Bristol Channel. There is more, with the Polar Maritime air mass from Greenland and Canada, bringing cold rains, made worse by the Arctic Maritime air mass carrying wet snow from the Arctic. The Polar Continental air mass from Central Europe and Russia brings dry summers, but snowy winters. I have mentioned five air masses, but some say there are only four while others say there are six. However many, they collide over the UK and their shifting boundaries are therefore difficult to forecast.
With Climate Change, the weather is even harder to predict. I love the rain. I have written about this in previous essays. The fact that it rains in Cardiff frequently does not necessarily mean it is raining elsewhere in Britain. With the occasional exception, Cardiff usually has the most rainy days in a year, more than any other city in the UK. I belong here. This year it was different. I have a friend who went on vacation in sunny Spain, where it rained, while the weather was better in Cardiff.
The weather was unusually warm in April, the skies incredibly blue and on many days cloudless. It didn’t rain as usual, nor did I wish it to rain. My Welsh friends were overjoyed with warm, sunny days and I didn’t want to spoil it. But April of 2025 was the sunniest April ever thanks to a persistent high-pressure system. Britain’s spring so far is the driest in a century, with 80.6mm of rainfall by mid-May, the average being 229mm. Britain might surpass the spring of 1852, the season total then was 100.7mm. I confess, I am uncertain of my facts because I don’t know if records reflect the meteorological calendar, popular in Britain, where seasons always begin on the first of the month, as opposed to the astronomical calendar, where seasons begin at the solstice or equinox. The latter is what I am accustomed to before coming to this country and ten years later I am still adhering to them.
There was a day when my in-laws, living in Lisvane, five miles to the north, reported the snow sticking to the ground and shrubs, while in Cardiff City Centre, where I reside, we had only flurries that skipped across the pavement but never collected. Meanwhile, my friends in Cardiff Bay, a mile to the south, reported rain.
There was another day, an afternoon, when I looked out my windows, which all face southeast, and saw puffs of white clouds floating in a blue sky. I dressed accordingly and stepped out of the flat into the hallway. There was a downpour pelting the windows facing northwest. The sky on that side of the building was a dark grey overcast. I returned to the flat to change my jacket.
These last few days at the end of May, rain has at last returned to nourish Cardiff. I was in Cardiff Bay this evening. Before heading home, I stopped at Charley’s, a fish and chips shack at the north end of Mermaid Quay. I ordered the haddock instead of the cod. Instead of tartar sauce for the fish and malt vinegar for the chips, the staff introduced me to using curry sauce. New to me. I liked it. There was a pause in the rain, but it was quite blustery and the air filled with spray. After swallowing my dinner, I decided not to take the bus back into City Centre; instead, I walked with the strong wind pushing me home. I had a raincoat that nearly reached my ankles.
As I walked up Lloyd George Avenue, I remembered the thrilling thunderstorms of my native land in summer. I truly missed them. We enjoy no such exciting weather in Cardiff. Lightning and thunder are rare here and meek by comparison. I miss little else.
Mr Bentzman will continue to report here regularly about
the events and concerns of his life. If you've any
comments or suggestions, he would be pleased to hear from you.
You can find his
several books at www.Bentzman.com.
Enshrined
Inside Me, his second collection of
essays, is now available to purchase.
