Sunday, June 18, 2006
In praise of rain
I've always liked rain, going back to when I was a kid and used to lie cosy and warm in bed listening to the drops rattling against my bedroom window. Rain clears the air of pollen, which always used to be a blessed relief from hay fever in those days when decent medication wasn't available. It washes the dust from the air and the crud from the streets, and gives the air that freshly-scrubbed feeling that you can almost taste in the mouth. In 'sunshine and showers' weather, rain and sun combine to provide skyscapes of breathtaking beauty that make you feel glad to be alive. And, of course, rain provides the water which we all need to live.
Having moved to Bilborough, that jewel in Nottingham's crown (cough!), I find another reason to love rain - it keeps people indoors, and keeps the noise level down. Now that summer has arrived to bless this expanse of identikit concrete boxes, some of the less social natives have emerged and are proceeding to enjoy themselves hugely at the expense of the rest of us (but then we're miserable bastards who don't count). Darrens pile up and down the road by the school on motorbikes of all types, from Piaggio scooters (for those whose folks have some dosh) through to trail bikes down to blarting mini-motorbikes. Having been a wannabe darren myself as a kid, and having worshipped full-blown darrens who had motorbikes, I know that there are only two purposes to having bikes:
1. To have a laugh when you've fuck-all else to do;
2. To piss people off.
The mini-motorbikes are good at both, as they give a speed rush and their ptharping blarting engines make a wholly disproportionate amount of noise that can be heard a mile away, a noise amplified by deliberately large exhaust outlets that transform the exhaust from a bee in a coffee tin to a full-throated giant fart. The very point of having such bikes and pointlessly piling up and down the same road on them is to piss people off, and to make a territorial statement. Getting from A to B doesn't come into it. So rain is good because only the most diehard biking darren will whizz up and down when it's siling it down, and in truth I have a sneaking admiration for those who are so dedicated to their mission to annoy the locals that they'll get drenched in the process - it shows a kind of dogged bullheaded determination missing in your average darren.
Then there are the neighbours. I'm lucky that I don't live down Tremayne Avenue, where there's a mini-block of flats which acts as a magnet to the local youth, and in this weather they loaf in the street chewing the fat, showing off their mean muthafuckaness, boasting and posturing to a gangsta soundtrack (I know - I have to pass them on my usual cycle route home from the Rodney). That must really fuck off their neighbours. At least all we have to deal with round here is barking dogs, White Van Men, and barbecues, and at least they can be blocked out by shutting the windows (ah, the wonder of double glazing) and doors. A shame I can't sit and loaf in my own back garden without being assailed by noise and clouds of petrol fumes, but that's life in Bilborough for you - quiet enjoyment of balmy summer evenings is not a lifestyle option arahrnd 'ere, ducks. Rain, of course, knocks them on the head too - the dogs come in, the barbies go out.
Unfortunately this is nearly as dry a part of the country as Hull. Not quite drought order country, but not far off it. Barely a drop all last week, so little respite from the bikes and the dogs and the barbies. Not much predicted either, though at least the temperature will drop from scorchio to cool.
Basically, this is not a good place to be in if you like peace and relaxation. If you like the 'sounds of the city' in summer, with loud folk in the street, booming music from cars and open windows, barbies burning, and something going on wherever you look, this is your city and your time. It rather reminds me of a lite version of the inner city depicted in Spike Lee's "Do the Right Thing", where everyone's shouting aggressively at the top of their voices in the relentless midsummer heat and a riot ensues. Bilborough's not quite in that sort of league, thankfully, but it's not a relaxing place. Mind you, it's probably no worse than many areas of Nottingham, although it's a poor comment on the estate, and the city, that the best thing you can say about Bilborough is that "People buy houses here because it isnt as bad as a lot of the areas in Nottingham" (as a comment on one of my earlier posts said).
So, rain on, and rain on mightily. There's never a thunderstorm when you need one...
Having moved to Bilborough, that jewel in Nottingham's crown (cough!), I find another reason to love rain - it keeps people indoors, and keeps the noise level down. Now that summer has arrived to bless this expanse of identikit concrete boxes, some of the less social natives have emerged and are proceeding to enjoy themselves hugely at the expense of the rest of us (but then we're miserable bastards who don't count). Darrens pile up and down the road by the school on motorbikes of all types, from Piaggio scooters (for those whose folks have some dosh) through to trail bikes down to blarting mini-motorbikes. Having been a wannabe darren myself as a kid, and having worshipped full-blown darrens who had motorbikes, I know that there are only two purposes to having bikes:
1. To have a laugh when you've fuck-all else to do;
2. To piss people off.
The mini-motorbikes are good at both, as they give a speed rush and their ptharping blarting engines make a wholly disproportionate amount of noise that can be heard a mile away, a noise amplified by deliberately large exhaust outlets that transform the exhaust from a bee in a coffee tin to a full-throated giant fart. The very point of having such bikes and pointlessly piling up and down the same road on them is to piss people off, and to make a territorial statement. Getting from A to B doesn't come into it. So rain is good because only the most diehard biking darren will whizz up and down when it's siling it down, and in truth I have a sneaking admiration for those who are so dedicated to their mission to annoy the locals that they'll get drenched in the process - it shows a kind of dogged bullheaded determination missing in your average darren.
Then there are the neighbours. I'm lucky that I don't live down Tremayne Avenue, where there's a mini-block of flats which acts as a magnet to the local youth, and in this weather they loaf in the street chewing the fat, showing off their mean muthafuckaness, boasting and posturing to a gangsta soundtrack (I know - I have to pass them on my usual cycle route home from the Rodney). That must really fuck off their neighbours. At least all we have to deal with round here is barking dogs, White Van Men, and barbecues, and at least they can be blocked out by shutting the windows (ah, the wonder of double glazing) and doors. A shame I can't sit and loaf in my own back garden without being assailed by noise and clouds of petrol fumes, but that's life in Bilborough for you - quiet enjoyment of balmy summer evenings is not a lifestyle option arahrnd 'ere, ducks. Rain, of course, knocks them on the head too - the dogs come in, the barbies go out.
Unfortunately this is nearly as dry a part of the country as Hull. Not quite drought order country, but not far off it. Barely a drop all last week, so little respite from the bikes and the dogs and the barbies. Not much predicted either, though at least the temperature will drop from scorchio to cool.
Basically, this is not a good place to be in if you like peace and relaxation. If you like the 'sounds of the city' in summer, with loud folk in the street, booming music from cars and open windows, barbies burning, and something going on wherever you look, this is your city and your time. It rather reminds me of a lite version of the inner city depicted in Spike Lee's "Do the Right Thing", where everyone's shouting aggressively at the top of their voices in the relentless midsummer heat and a riot ensues. Bilborough's not quite in that sort of league, thankfully, but it's not a relaxing place. Mind you, it's probably no worse than many areas of Nottingham, although it's a poor comment on the estate, and the city, that the best thing you can say about Bilborough is that "People buy houses here because it isnt as bad as a lot of the areas in Nottingham" (as a comment on one of my earlier posts said).
So, rain on, and rain on mightily. There's never a thunderstorm when you need one...
