Afriend who now lives in the US, and who reads my ramblings online as a means of catching up with the goings on in my life, when we met up recently, said: "You should call your column
The Weather Report. No matter what you write about, the weather is always mentioned. You're very meteophobic aren't you?"
Being a bit of a pedant, I spent the next few days poring over every single dictionary and website possible looking for the exact definition of the word, but have failed to come up with one.
When I phoned him to discuss this matter (and then I wonder why my phone bills are as high as they are!) he said that he was sure he had come across it somewhere, and that it was used to describe someone who was easily effected by bad weather.
I'm still not convinced about the existence of the word, but if it does, then yes, I'm definitely meteophobic.
Anyway, if you wanted bad weather, you couldn't get better bad weather than this! Rain. Sheets of it. Huge big droplets, the likes of which I have never seen in my life.
All day long. Never-ending. In the first few days here in Milan, I kept wondering why the hydrangea bushes look like they're on steroids. Now I know. It has rained every day for the last month apparently. I can only vouch for the last 10 days.
Which means that I have spent most of my time not spent in - or coming to and from - factories, in my hotel room catching up on Italian television (which I have to say has become worse than ever), reading about Augusten Burroughs's recovery from alcoholism, and getting frustrated at Text Twirl - an online word game which I had been warned about by a Facebook (and real life) friend, who said it was highly addictive. I can now confirm that.
I've had room service deliver food to my room practically every night. As you can imagine, I'm looking forward to getting out of here.
My only venture into the great outdoors took place on Sunday - supposedly my only day off.
It was the first morning I woke up to no rain, so rather than stay in and catch up on my sleep, I thought best to get out and do something.
I had seen posters advertising a big Francis Bacon exhibition, so I headed straight to Palazzo Reale - which is right across the square from my hotel - stopping to hear Mass at the Duomo (I was lured in by the sound of the choir singing.)
The Bacon was predictably astounding. Such a thrill to have room after room of it. The show has really whet my appetite for the big Tate restrospective coming up in September to celebrate the centenary of the artist's birth.
By the time I was out of the museum, the skies had opened again.
Rather than walk around the city - as I would have liked to do - it was a quick lunch in a trattoria run by the loudest woman I have ever heard in my life (and I've come across a few of them!) and then back to the hotel for my Text Twirl.
I got so bored that I ended up spending the rest of my Sunday catching up on my work e-mails!
As you can imagine, I'm kind of desperate to get back home. At least back in London, even if the weather is crap - and I hear it hasn't exactly been glorious - I've got my home to lock myself in. A hotel room, no matter how nice, is not quite the same.
Thankfully, I have only two days to go!
The Weather Report. No matter what you write about, the weather is always mentioned. You're very meteophobic aren't you?"
Being a bit of a pedant, I spent the next few days poring over every single dictionary and website possible looking for the exact definition of the word, but have failed to come up with one.
When I phoned him to discuss this matter (and then I wonder why my phone bills are as high as they are!) he said that he was sure he had come across it somewhere, and that it was used to describe someone who was easily effected by bad weather.
I'm still not convinced about the existence of the word, but if it does, then yes, I'm definitely meteophobic.
Anyway, if you wanted bad weather, you couldn't get better bad weather than this! Rain. Sheets of it. Huge big droplets, the likes of which I have never seen in my life.
All day long. Never-ending. In the first few days here in Milan, I kept wondering why the hydrangea bushes look like they're on steroids. Now I know. It has rained every day for the last month apparently. I can only vouch for the last 10 days.
Which means that I have spent most of my time not spent in - or coming to and from - factories, in my hotel room catching up on Italian television (which I have to say has become worse than ever), reading about Augusten Burroughs's recovery from alcoholism, and getting frustrated at Text Twirl - an online word game which I had been warned about by a Facebook (and real life) friend, who said it was highly addictive. I can now confirm that.
I've had room service deliver food to my room practically every night. As you can imagine, I'm looking forward to getting out of here.
My only venture into the great outdoors took place on Sunday - supposedly my only day off.
It was the first morning I woke up to no rain, so rather than stay in and catch up on my sleep, I thought best to get out and do something.
I had seen posters advertising a big Francis Bacon exhibition, so I headed straight to Palazzo Reale - which is right across the square from my hotel - stopping to hear Mass at the Duomo (I was lured in by the sound of the choir singing.)
The Bacon was predictably astounding. Such a thrill to have room after room of it. The show has really whet my appetite for the big Tate restrospective coming up in September to celebrate the centenary of the artist's birth.
By the time I was out of the museum, the skies had opened again.
Rather than walk around the city - as I would have liked to do - it was a quick lunch in a trattoria run by the loudest woman I have ever heard in my life (and I've come across a few of them!) and then back to the hotel for my Text Twirl.
I got so bored that I ended up spending the rest of my Sunday catching up on my work e-mails!
As you can imagine, I'm kind of desperate to get back home. At least back in London, even if the weather is crap - and I hear it hasn't exactly been glorious - I've got my home to lock myself in. A hotel room, no matter how nice, is not quite the same.
Thankfully, I have only two days to go!