Do you like Spalding?

Well, the straightforward answer is, I don’t know, I’ve never Spalded. I was hoping to yesterday, but all I managed was a mild fumbling in the outer reaches, staring out onto the bleak Fens, trying to detect the curvature of the Earth. I figured that this much advertised feature of our planet might be emphasised indirectly in this famously level part of the country by a row of pylons, or more fundamentally by a curious horizon-disturbing muddy bulge, perhaps even by an otherwise unexplained vertical-plane convexity in the transits of farm animals of the porcine variety, but no. All was flatness, as far as the eye could see. Not only did I fail in this task, but also I never penetrated to the metropolitan Spaldingian core to the extent I desired.

So in matters Spalding, against my wishes, I remain pure and virginal, though slightly damp. Why? Because it rained.

It wasn’t supposed to. I blame the BBC. Blaming the BBC is a popular pursuit – and should be if you’re in any sense a normal(ish) middle of the road resident of Middle England watching BBC1 ‘News at Ten’ and wanting unbiased, objective, varied, comprehensive and relevant news, rather than irrelevant, agenda-heavy, rigidly themed, carefully selected trivia and skewed opinion. But that’s just my opinion (and that of most people I talk to, although most have given up watching it).

News is one thing, weather another. Weather isn’t amenable to attempts at social engineering or reversing the decision on Brexit or a putative visit from the president of our greatest ally. However, holding the purveyor of weather forecasts responsible for its “product” (and by extension the weather itself), seems perfectly justified. Why should one be satisfied with untruths, with duff information? If the person in the enquiry office tells you that the train is going at 10.15 and it leaves on the dot at ten, and you miss it, would you be happy? If the weather forecast is likely to be untrue, why don’t they tell you? Or give you a percentage reliability estimate (like “0 %”). In fact, why do they bother at all?

For a long while, when planning a weekend trip, I’ve observed (online this is, rather than on the telly), from about a week earlier, that Saturday and Sunday hence are invariably going to be gloriously sunny. Good. I start planning. On Tuesday there’s a hint of light cloud accumulating. By about Wednesday the forecast for Sunday is looking iffy; by Thursday there are dark clouds looming for Saturday. When Saturday comes it’s piddling down, all day, it hardly gets light at all, Sunday likewise. Monday, of course, will be gorgeous. So will the following weekend. I’ve begun to notice this trend.

Armed with this suspicion and the prospect of a life-changing trip to Spalding, Lincolnshire, I decided to do a little test. You should not regard this as in any way scientific, reliable, meaningful, representative, statistically valid, or anything from which you can draw conclusions. It isn’t, it’s just a little test. I kept a log of the forecasts as given each day of last week.

So, back to the previous Saturday, and the forecast for Spalding for this Saturday, the one that’s just gone. Amazingly, contrary to suspicion, not a fat round sun symbol, but light cloud, a 12 mph wind from the WSW, and a daytime temperature of 9 degrees. Fine, I thought, I’ll go. I’ll get to have a look round Spalding. Quite similar was the forecast on Sunday, wind speed and temperature both up a notch. By Monday, however, a big black cloud had arrived for Saturday, with a spot of rain. Never mind, Tuesday and Wednesday were back to similarity with the earlier forecasts, with light cloud, daytime temperature of 8 degrees, and WSW winds of 12 or 13 mph. By Thursday the wind for Saturday had increased to 18 mph, the rain was back on the agenda, but the temperature had gone up a couple of degrees. Similar was the forecast on Friday, although the rain had gone away again.

Then to the day itself, yesterday, Saturday 27th January. The environs of Spalding. The clouds were scraping the tops of the pylons, the mud was well muddy, the pigs weren’t flying due to poor visibility, and the rain was piddling down. The Earth remained flat, all day. Spalding lives to be enjoyed another day.