A few wheelie bins fall over, leaves blow off trees, a crisp packet is whipped up into the air, the door mysteriously swings open on your electric meter and your hair might get a bit messed up.
Listening to folk talking, be it on the national news or in the Post Office, you'd have thought Hurricane Hardcor-etta had struck the British Isles this week.
More like Hurricane Abitofabreeza.
Get a grip people.....and I don't mean on to the nearest lamppost so you don't fall over or on to your house roof so it doesn't blow off!
Speaking over over-reacting to the weather......
I had a bit of a political FaceBook whinge the other week, although I think my hot air was about as powerful as the aforementioned 'high winds which battered the country' (don't you just love journalists and their lyrical waxing; cue winking smiley).
I was provoked into my social media rant after receiving a text from my son's football manager to say all football games on Kirklees pitches were cancelled that coming weekend.
They'd clearly had the crystal ball out, received an e.mail from from Him upstairs or believed everything spouted by the Met Office. None of which, personally, I have much faith in.
In reality, the predicted 'strong breezes' failed to manifest and on a beautiful autumnal weekend with blue skies all around, hundreds of boys and girls, young men and women were sat at home stuffing their faces with left-over Halloween sweets and staring at computer screens. Football pitches around the region were deserted and the postponed games which the young players spend all week looking forward to, will probably never happen.
Isn't this nation supposed to be tackling obesity and promoting healthy living, sport and team spirit (how quickly the hype of 2012 is forgotten?).
And while I've got my trumpet out of its case and I'm up here on my soapbox, I'll remind fickle weather whingers (not you, of course, dear reader), that just a few weeks ago the people of the Philippines found out all-too-tragically what the forces of nature can REALLY do and I was thrilled that my friends and family chipped in to raise £330 for the aid appeal. All I did was have a nice jog down Kirkstall Road with 12,000 fellow fund-raisers. Pip, as my kids would say (or was that last week, I really must keep up?!).
And shall I tell you what else annoys me.....? (Blimey, I'm not going to be able to leave the house, there's going to be a lynch mob of offended people camped outside my house).
York Railway Station! Lots of fancy metal things to stub out your cigarette, but no actual bin to throw your banana skin in. (A throw away remark (!?!) but says a lot about the state of the Nation methinks)
Hey, just realised it's my blog's birthday! I only thought of that because I was about to continue my rant with my thoughts about the increasingly early arrival of Christmas hysteria but then I remembered I did that a year ago and I don't want to repeat myself with the same seasonal editorial year-after-year, I'm not writing for Good Housekeeping am I?! Can I just say though, I think the lady in the local gift shop who asked me if I was 'ready for it' on November 27th was lucky to get away with a black eye.
So, I'll check what I whinged about last Christmas and get back to you soon on my moans for the 2013 festive season.....bet you can't wait?!
I'll leave you with a special treat from the mouths of babes.....
Teddy: "Daniel, let me do a five knuckle shuffle on you?"
"What was that Teddy?!," I cry as my head spins round so quickly I get whiplash.
"Five knuckle shuffle, mum, don't you even know what that is, duuuuur?"
(Well, I thought I knew what it meant and somehow I hoped I was very, very wrong and like 'sick', it now meant something totally different!)
"No, Teddy, what does it mean, my sweet, innocent 11-year-old son?"
Looking at me like I've just been beamed down from planet Olden Days, Teddy replies: "It's a WWE move."
Oh, thank God for that!
Hang on a minute, what the *%$@ is WWE? (ahhhhhh, exploding brain, too many questions).
Good old Google (I'm not THAT old) informed me that WWE is what was WWF. Presumably, the Pandas finally got fed up being confused with orange American men prancing around a padded ring in lycra.
