PROFILE THE IRISH SUMMERAnother week, another soaking. It's a typical Irish summer, although we all live in perpetual hope that the sun will make a surprise late appearance, writes Kevin Courtney
My Dearest Summer,
Why hast thou abandoned us? What have we done that makes you shun us so? What terrible crime have we committed that you cannot bear to tarry a while in our company? All these long, wet days we have waited patiently, desperately, barbecues cleaned and ready, sun-loungers unfolded, for a sign - any sign - that you will soon return. Alas, the grey days stretch before us with nary a hope of bright weather ahead. And yet, we still believe, still hope against hope, that one day you will come back and light up our lives once again. We wait patiently, faithfully.
Forever yours,
The Plain People of Ireland.
THEY SEEK IT here, they seek it there . . . more elusive than the Scarlet Pimpernel, the Irish summer continues to confound the citizenry with its uncanny ability to remain almost completely absent. Like a gangland boss hiding out on the Costa del Crime, the Irish summer has thwarted all attempts to apprehend it and bring it back home to face the music. It's a cruel summer, teasing us with a flash of blue sky, like a Victorian lady showing an ankle, tantalising us with the odd scorching afternoon, and torturing us with its near-sadistic refusal to stick around for any reasonable length of time.
But we live in hope. Like a jilted lover whose beau has absconded to warmer climes, we wait by the window while the rain lashes the pane, peering into the grey mist for any signs of our loved one's return. Is that a patch of blue I see in the distance? No, it's just a trick of what little light there is left. Might as well face the cold, hard fact - the Irish summer has emigrated to warmer climes, leaving us to wallow in wetness, and it's not coming back. It's not even going to send us a postcard.
Midweek, the Met Éireann forecast was dishearteningly typical: cloudy and wet, with rain across the country, turning heavy in many places with risk of flooding and isolated thunder. On Wednesday, Dart services between Sandycove/Glasthule and Greystones were cancelled due to flooding, and traffic in parts of Dublin was disrupted by floods caused by heavy rain.
Far more impressive was how Shannon Airport had the heaviest hour of rain since Irish records began, with half the average total for August in one deluge. There were reports of mini-tornados in Mitchelstown, Co Cork and in Co Meath. Limerick has also seen its fair share of rain, with Newcastle West cleaning up after flash floods.
At the RDS in Dublin, the Horse Show opened under torrential rain, but punters were keeping a stiff upper lip. Although the rain let up yesterday, Met Éireann is predicting more downpours over the weekend. They should rename it the Duck Show.
Through all the downpours, the temperature remained high, between 17°C to 21°C in very light winds, as if that's any consolation.
AUGUST IS USUALLY a period of drought, when we are urged not to waste water by hosing our lawns or washing our SUVs, but the weather has made a mockery of those water conservation ads. The one in which a patch of land is made to look like a kitchen sponge is particularly apposite. The ad informs you that hosing your lawn for an hour uses 500 gallons of water. But the hoses haven't come out of the shed - the rain is doing the job perfectly adequately.
It has also made those summer anthems ring hollow on the radio. Every time a Beach Boys song comes on, it just makes us wish we all could be California girls and boys. And it's doubtful if Irish singer Mundy's anthem, July, has been getting much airplay of late - its lyrics about a balmy summer's day just don't reflect the damp reality. And as for Bagatelle's Summer in Dublin . . . sure, that's long faded into folklore.
Like a memory of a youthful love affair, our recollection of summers past is bathed in a rosy glow of warm sunlight, an idyllic scene flecked with sunbeams. Think of your childhood summer holidays, and visions of long, lazy days basking in the heat on Portmarnock beach or Brittas Bay bounce to the fore. Conversely, our perception of recent summers is increasingly gloomy - it always seems to us that they are getting worse.
It's little comfort to know that official data tallies with our perception that July was a particularly soggy month. According to Met Éireann, July started off wet and cool and ended wet and cool, with a warmer, drier patch in the middle. Total rainfall for the month was above normal in most places, and more than twice the July norm in the east and south, with Cork having its wettest July since 1975. So, yes, we really got drowned. The sunniest place to be last month was in the north and northwest, which are traditionally the wettest spots in the country. The southwest - traditionally bathed in Mediterranean-style weather - and the "sunny" southeast were the dullest places to be.
If you thought summer 2007 was bad, then summer 2008 was . . . a lot drier, actually. No, you haven't got water in your ears, it's true: average rainfall around the country between June 1st and the August Bank Holiday weekend was down in all areas by almost a third. During the same period last year, rainfall recorded at Dublin Airport was 349mm. This year, it was 207mm.
Limerick might be getting floods, but average rainfall for the past two months was 224mm compared with 302mm last year.
SO OUR COLLECTIVE memory may be playing tricks on us - but with little else to do but stay indoors, bloggers have been passing the time by discussing the burning question, are Irish summers a thing of the past? "I remember the school summer holidays and the weather was always great," writes one. "The summers were so long and we all used to have our paddling pools out in the back garden and have water fights." Another blogger sounds a more practical note: "We may need to re-assess if July and August are the best months to have summer holidays - May and June appear to be improving in terms of sunshine. We also need to change our mindsets a bit - rain is not always bad and a good raincoat and pair of boots can get you out there onto the roads and fields of the country." That's the spirit.
There's no point shooting the messenger or blaming the government for our wet summers. Blame the Atlantic ocean, which exerts the strongest influence on our weather. The Atlantic dumps a constant stream of depressions on our little island, keeping us well watered, but also keeping our yearly temperatures from going to extremes, so we don't get the hot summers and cold winters of other European countries. We get an average of around 150 wet days a year along the east and south-east coasts, and about 225 wet days in parts of the west. April is usually the driest month (there go the April showers), while June is usually the driest month in the south.
We may not get the extremes, but we still can't help envying the rest of Europe as it basks in temperatures above 30°C. If only we could bottle our rain and export it to other parched countries, we might have an industry to rival Ballygowan. But the cloud of doom and gloom that hangs over the economy is mirrored by the very real clouds which fill the Irish summer sky.
In an almost-perverse alignment of cosmic forces, the weather perfectly matches the current economic climate - completely saturated and with no end to the misery in sight.
THERE'S A HUMOROUS e-mail doing the rounds, showing a shop window displaying the perfect accessory for the style-conscious Irish woman this summer. It's a pair of flippers with stiletto heels, called "high-tide heels". For Irish girls hoofing around Temple Bar in their soggy heel-highs, they would make the perfect summer gift, but alas, they're not available in BTs. Not yet, anyway.
It's no surprise, though, to hear that sales of wellies have shot up, particularly in the days leading up to Oxegen in early July. Expect another spike in sales as revellers prepare for all eventualities at the Electric Picnic on the weekend of August 29th. But sales of barbecues, patio furniture, sun loungers and other outdoor paraphernalia have dropped through the decking. "It would definitely be down, even slower than last year," says a spokesman for Homebase. "In mid-May and early June, the stuff shot out the door. It's slower now but still moving, and should pick up now that our sale has started, with a bit of luck. The worst hit are barbecues and patio heaters, but rain covers have gone up, as well as gazebos - anything that gives shelter from the rain."
But there is always a last-chance saloon. Every year, just when it seems that we are hopelessly surrounded by clouds, we look to the horizon and anticipate the arrival of the cavalry coming over the hill in the form of an Indian summer. As summers have continued to disappoint, this near-mythical creature has come to represent our dream of an early autumn respite from the relentless rain. "Please God we'll get an Indian summer," we might say to the lady in the shop. Or we'll utter the more blindly optimistic "we're in for an Indian summer - it said so on the radio".
So don't mothball your swimming gear and sun loungers just yet - if that Indian summer finally arrives, we'll all be rushing outdoors in September to make up for lost summer time.
