Battling The Elements

"Are you sure you want to be dropped off here?"

It was 8:30. The air was crisp, the Sun was shining and I was in the car to school. Having not had much sleep the previous night (too much hardcore gaming), I was still too bleary-eyed to realise the distance he had dropped me off from the main entrance.

"Yeah whatever," I replied groggily.

As soon as I got out the car, I realised just how big a mistake I had made. As I looked up ahead, a dark, rumbling behemoth of a cloud hung in the air and seemed to be consuming the sky. By the time I reached the path the cloud had displaced the Sun and cast the street in an ominous semi-darkness.

Then the rain came. It felt like I had walked through a waterfall, or mistakenly walked into a lake. The drops beat down upon me like God himself was machine-gunning me with bullets made of H20. I floundered helplessly as the horizontal rain slowly paralysed me with cold, drawing out every ounce of warmth from my body. I tried to run but my limbs were weary, and my blazer felt like a lead jacket.

Had the rain not stopped, I might of drowned. But thankfully it did.

When I told my mate Dave about what had happened, he laughed uncontrollably at my misfortune. In retaliation I shed water all over his bag. That showed him.

"Was it raining outside?" asked another friend, who seemed unaware that I looked like a wet dog.

"No... My boat capsized and I swam my way to school." I replied.

Some people...

***
It's 12:30 and I'm outside playing football for the P.E lesson. Once again there's torrential rain, and once again there's mind-numbing cold. But this time, I have to endure it for a full hour.

And we're 7-0 down. The only thing that will warm me remotely is if I score a goal, but the wind is against us and every time we kick the ball upfield it ends up in the back of our net as if God himself wanted us to lose.

Will this rain ever stop? I thought as Neumonia set in.

But the rain did stop (huzzah!) to be replaced by hail (damn.) and what began as a monsoon turned into a blizzard. I couldn't see a thing as icy winds cut through me like a scythe. It was like God himself was throwing daggers made of ice at my eyes (which I need to see).

It felt like The Day After Tommorrow, except everyone was in shorts. Who likes short shorts? I certainly fucking don't.

But despite the overwhelming odds, a wild kick miraculously lofts the ball over the defense and right into my path. I blink at the ball.

"Run! Jingo! Run!" Someone screams.

And so I'm hurtling down the left wing, muttering obscenities and taking the ball past player after player as I transformed into an incredibly cold and unnattractive version of Cristiano Ronaldo. The cold bit at my hands and face, the hail induced semi-blindness, but I was completely focussed on the goal at the end of the pitch.

And the goal was empty! The goalkeeper had come out! My pace had left the defense for dead and I surged forward towards the empty goalmouth. I hit the ball sweetly and the ball soared majestically through the air. There could only be one outcome!

Now that I think about it, I really should have scored.

I collapsed to the ground a broken man. A humiliated broken man. A humiliate broken man who couldn't get back up because of cramp.

***
Two stories of pain and humiliation, both at the hands of the elements. Both events happened in the last week and I thought it relevant to share with you, considering the amount of weird weather England has been experiencing of late.

Only yesterday, walking home from school, I believed I could fly... It really was that windy! I felt like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix.

I'm sure some humiliating Mary-Poppins/Wizard-of-Oz-esque tale will emerge with these windy conditions. Hopefully it'll be Torquer for a change and not me.